


Into Silent Water

by jammerific



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Action/Adventure, Emotionally Significant Clothing, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Gerudo Culture, Legend of Zelda References, Light Angst, Link/Food OTP, Moderate depictions of violence, Novelization, Past Lives, Pining, Plot, Poor Life Choices, Sheikah Culture, Survivor Guilt, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 55,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammerific/pseuds/jammerific
Summary: Link dies. This isn't the end.When he wakes, he has nothing but a mission and the crushing weight of expectation. As he navigates this new Hyrule, he finds friends, a sword and himself along the way.(An extremely loose novelization of the events of Breath of the Wild, with a hefty dose of headcanon and worldbuilding. Updates alternate Sundays)
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 85





	1. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [15/02/21] - I thought I'd expand a bit on my opening A/Ns since this story has mutated somewhat since I first started posting!
> 
> I outlined this story as an exploration of how BOTW might have looked as an adventure story, i.e. free of all game mechanics and any restrictions inherent to single player open-world game storytelling. 
> 
> At this point, I'd probably describe it as a remix rather than a straight up novelization. The basic structure is unchanged (Link frees the four divine beasts, retrieves the master sword and defeats Ganon), but the plot veers off in new directions around those fixed points. There's a lot of development of and involvement from the supporting cast, and a fairly large amount of world-building, because that's what I find the most fun about writing fanfiction :)
> 
> The first chapter, written long before the rest, sticks quite closely to the events in-game. So if you're here for the world-building please do bear with it!

Warm water releases him gently from slumber into soft darkness. He feels weightless; loose-limbed and pliant. Through the fuzz, a woman is speaking. _"Wake up, Link,"_ she urges softly.

The name isn't familiar to him. He glances around but sees no one else. Not even the woman who had spoken, in fact. Where is she? As if that thought has opened a floodgate, more questions come rushing in like a tide. _Who is she who am I what is this place where was I before this..._ An odd sensation tugs at his mind. He was doing something urgent. How did he get here? Panic seizes his chest like ice water. Someone else is meant to be here. He sits up, head spinning from the sudden change in posture. _Where is she where is she?_ His fingers clench around nothing. He needs to... to do what? The thought slips from his grasp like a fish.

He looks round. He's in a stone basin at the center of an circular room. It feels like a tomb, the air stale and still. When he swings his feet down the floor is disconcertingly warm. He wiggles his toes, staring blankly at them. Why is he undressed? He's naked except for a snug pair of shorts, and he's dry despite waking up suspended in liquid. That's odd. Across the room he sees a doorway, but when he gets up to try the door it's blocked fast. He traces his fingertips across its carved surface. There are no hidden handles. The only other thing of interest in the room is an unusual pedestal. As he approaches, he sees there's an odd looking tablet on top, connected by a thick cable. 

_"That is a Sheikah Slate,"_ the unseen woman says. _"Take it. It will help guide you after your long slumber."_ How is she speaking to him?

He unplugs and picks up the tablet, and the door retracts with a grinding of stone on stone. Beyond lies a disused-looking corridor. There's a wooden chest, which contains a battered pair of ankle boots and a coarse linen shirt and trousers. The fit suggests they aren't his. Under the clothes is a leather holster which looks designed to hold the slate. Who left these here? The next door lets in a gust of fresh air and sunlight, and he breathes deep in relief. The mystery voice is speaking again. _"Link... you are the light that must shine upon Hyrule once again. Now go,"_ she pleads.

"Link" must be him. If this woman knows him, maybe she can tell him what's going on. He calls out, but all that comes out is a croaking noise - he'll need to find some water. He heaves himself over the collapsed stairs and emerges blinking into bright sunlight. Long grass tickles his ankles where the trousers leave them bare. The view is amazing; he's on a raised plateau and in the clear air he can see for miles. Lush plains and deep forests stretch to a series of imposing peaks at the horizon. Looking closer by he spots another person, waving at him. Even from here he can tell it's a man. No sign of the mysterious woman yet.

"Well met," the man hails as he approaches. Link's second attempt at speech is as unsuccessful as the first. "Not a talkative one?" the man chuckles. Link shrugs. How should he know? His companion doesn't seem deterred by the one-sided conversation. "No matter," he says cheerfully. "A comfortable silence by the fireside can be as fine a treat as that baked apple there. I see you eyeing it, my boy. Please help yourself!" 

Link's instinct is to politely decline, but his stomach growls fiercely and he realizes he's ravenous. He nearly groans with pleasure at the first bite; the apple is hot and sweet and bursting with juice. He makes himself chew each mouthful rather than inhaling it whole, and wipes his mouth sheepishly with his tattered sleeve when he's done. The man passes him a water-skin, which Link gulps from greedily. "Now that you're no longer in danger of keeling over from hunger, perhaps some introductions are due," the man smiles. "I am Rhoam. And your name, friend?"

"Link," he replies hoarsely, trying to make it sound more like a statement than a question. "Nice to meet you," he adds after a moment's hesitation.

"And the same to you! It's strange to see another soul in these parts," Rhoam observes. 

"Where are we?" Link asks. He didn't recognize any of the places he could see from the clifftop.

"This is the Great Plateau. According to legend, it is the birthplace of the entire Kingdom of Hyrule, though now its buildings are decaying and forgotten, like so much since the decline of the kingdom one hundred years ago". Rhoam gazes quietly into the fire for a moment before continuing with a more upbeat tone. "What brings a bright-eyed young man like yourself to a place like this?" he asks.

"I... don't know," Link admits. "I don't remember how I got here."

"Indeed? Most curious. Perhaps retracing your steps will help," Rhoam suggests.

Well, that's as good a plan as any. Link stands, brushing off his borrowed trousers and resettling the odd slate at his hip. 

"I shall be here for some time," Rhoam calls after him as he heads down the hill path. "Please let me know if I may be of service."

~

He only manages a few paces before he realizes the problem with retracing steps you can't remember. Thankfully the mysterious voice comes to his rescue. _"Head to the point marked on your Sheikah Slate,"_ she instructs. It's a crisp day and the terrain is easy; it would be a pleasant walk if only he wasn't consumed by this sense of being lost and misplaced. His destination is another pedestal, identical to the one he took the slate from. A message flashes up on the smooth face of the slate when he slides it into the socket. 

[Sheikah Tower Activated]

...What tower?

Without warning, the ground surges upwards, throwing him flat on his back and exploding chunks of rock outwards. He cries out in alarm, arms instinctively spreading out to cling to the floor beneath him. Once the movement stops he cautiously climbs to his feet, heart rate returning to normal. That was... unexpected. He's now at the top of a fairly large tower. The pedestal has released his slate, which now displays a map of the local area. None of the place names seem familiar. As he scrutinizes them, the woman speaks once more.

 _"Remember, Link,"_ she entreats. Her voice seems to come simultaneously from inside his head and from the far distance. Through the viewfinder on the slate, he can just about make out a castle on a hill to the North, surrounded by odd pillars. It's wreathed in some kind of roiling smoke. Is there a fire? 

_"You have been asleep for the past 100 years,"_ the woman is saying.

_...What?_

_"When the beast regains its true power, this world will face its end. You must hurry, Link. Before it's too late,"_ she pleads.

He can see now that it's not smoke enveloping the castle. The miasma _is_ the beast. It circles, bellowing, before diving back down out of sight. This woman, whoever she is, wants him to _stop_ that thing? The idea is ludicrous. What can he possibly do against such a monster, with no weapon, no army, no memory? Does she have him confused with someone else? And yet, through the disbelief he also feels a sort of inevitability curling in his gut. As if he's been cornered by a wolf he thought he'd outrun.

He inches his way down the tower's latticed sides, and no sooner have his feet hit the ground than Rhoam appears with a friendly shout, swooping in on a ... glider? There's definitely something off about this guy. His suspicion isn't helped by the man suddenly talking about long-dormant powers and asking very pointed questions. Can he be trusted? Link supposes he doesn't have much to lose, and he needs to get to civilization, where he can find someone to help him. He agrees to the proposed exchange of the glider for "treasure" from one of the shrines. He has a vague feeling he should be clasping forearms to seal the agreement, but Rhoam doesn't offer, so he shrugs and heads out.

~

The shrine is fascinating. It was clearly built by the same people as the room in which he awoke, but where that was stale and dark this room is vast, bright and new. The light seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, casting confusing shadows on the smooth floor. There's another disembodied voice and another pedestal for the slate, this one adding not a map but a mode which allows him to lift metal objects with merely a gesture. There's a mummified monk, dissipating into thin air even as Link's outstretched fingertips brush its arms.

Back on the surface, Rhoam re-appears and instantly reneges on their deal. Link should have pushed for that handshake... Still, whatever the monk did to him in the shrine has left him refreshed and buoyant, and an opportunity to see what other tricks the slate might possess sounds good. He plots a route to the second shrine with only minor resentment. It's sort of reassuring (familiar) to be told what to do.

He's absently chewing an apple as he rounds the corner to the abbey, so he's caught off-guard by the rusted machine in front of him coming sluggishly back to life. Lurid red-pink-purple pulses over its shell as it grinds its head round to face him. He instinctively reaches for a weapon and shield that aren't there, nausea rising in his throat. He's frozen in place as fear washes over him, breath shallow, heart pounding in his chest so hard he thinks it might burst. He can smell blood and smoke thick on the air; hear distant screams and cries even over the clanking of metal legs and the increasingly urgent beeping. Wait. Beeping... He flings himself out of the way just as a beam of light explodes into the bricks above his head, showering him in a fine coating of dust. He stays huddled behind the wall, panting, straining to hear anything over his own pulse rushing in his ears and his quick-fire breaths. Sweet Hylia, what is that thing? Eventually his shaking limbs cooperate, and he creeps carefully round the back to the shrine.

~

By the time he exits with the newfound power to create ephemeral bombs, the sun is dipping towards the horizon. He sees smoke not too far off and skirts his way out of the ruins towards it. None of the demon machines rouse as he passes, though his heart leaps in his chest at each one. The smoke leads him to Rhoam's cabin. Link swallows his irritation towards the man in exchange for a portion of surprisingly decent fish stew and a warm dry place to sleep. 

He dreams he's hacking at an endless stream of vicious metal demons, calf deep in sucking mud. He's already exhausted. His legs tremble; every gasping breath draws fire into his lungs. Blood and fatigue blur his vision. He slices through grasping appendages on pure instinct until finally he drops to his knees, spent. He's helpless to stop the next one as it slams sharp claws into his back; there's searing agony and a sickening crunch of bone and then he wakes, sweat-drenched, kneading at his breastbone. 

Only scraps of fitful sleep come to him for the rest of the night. Rhoam is already up and about when he emerges groggily and gratefully accepts a bowl of thick porridge. As he eats, perched on the log-bench, Rhoam rummages around and returns holding a worn-looking doublet. "You'll be wanting this if you're heading up into the highlands," he says as he hands it over. "It gets cold up there even at this time of year. Good luck!"

~

It takes Link all morning to hike to and complete the two shrines in the highlands, and the afternoon to tramp back down again. By the end, his toes are painfully numb. He's glad for the warmth of the doublet on his torso. While he walks, he ponders what the woman told him. How can he have been asleep for a century? People don't generally live that long, he's sure. He _feels_ young, and when he holds his hands out the skin is smooth, with no age spots or wrinkles. He even stops to break the ice on a pond to look at his reflection. The face staring back is youthful, though still frustratingly unfamiliar. Perhaps the same magic which held the shrine monks in stasis? The idea creeps him out; he can barely comprehend how a person could linger so long just to pass on a wisp of power to some long-prophesied hero.

A few miles further on, another thought occurs to him. If a hundred years truly has passed, anyone who might have been able to help him work out his identity, to help him get home, will surely be long dead. Even if he remembers on his own, there can be no return to his old life. His family, if he had one, will all be dead and buried. Did they know what happened to him? Did he leave behind a wife, children, to struggle on without him? He may never find out. Is it better not to know?

He makes it back to the cabin with the last rays of the sun, and picks halfheartedly at a braised pigeon breast and mushrooms while he warms his toes. His dreams that night are full of people whose names he doesn't know, and whose faces he can't make out. Their words are garbled, as though he's underwater. 

~

When he wakes, Rhoam beckons him to follow to the temple. The plateau is bathed in the golds and pinks of early sunrise as they reach the top of the spire. Rhoam turns to face him, expression somber. "I have not been entirely honest with you, Link," he admits. _No kidding_ , Link thinks, though he keeps this to himself. Rhoam lets his disguise melt away to reveal the fine robes and crown of a king, and Link twitches with the sudden urge to drop to his knees. Swift on the heels of that comes a somewhat bewildering desire to punch him in the face, which Link also fights down.

"You'll forgive the deception, I hope," Rhoam says. "Truth be told, I wasn't sure you would agree to help if you remembered who I was, and when it became clear your memories would not simply return on their own..."

Link stares blankly at him.

"Well. I suppose I must begin at the very start," Rhoam says. "With the fortune teller's prophecy." 

Rhoam's exposition on the calamity feels like a story. Link honestly tries, but he can't imagine himself in the place of the Hylian Champion being described. But when the former King describes the fate of the princess - the thought of anyone being trapped with that monstrosity for so long sends a wave of empathy and guilt washing over him. Along with awe, at this woman who sounds almost like a goddess herself, to have gone up alone against a nightmare and fought it to a standstill for a century. And fear, of this ridiculous, impossible thing being asked of him when he's just _some guy_ without even the clothes on his back to his name. But whatever Rhoam sees in Link's face apparently satisfies him, and he presses the glider into Link's hands.

"Link... when you see my daughter, please tell her... Tell her I am truly sorry. She will know what for, and I can only regret that my apology comes too late. I hope the two of you can break this goddess-cursed cycle once and for all," he says. Then with a grateful nod he slowly fades away. Link heads down to the chancel and sits on the pedestal of the statue of Hylia to watch the sun come up through the ruined walls. He half-remembers watching another sunrise through the stained-glass windows, before they were shattered outwards like snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Once in a Lifetime" by Talking Heads.


	2. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read/subscribed/left kudos so far!

The ground in front of Link drops sharply away where he stands on the plateau edge. He fiddles with the glider, contemplating a very messy end on the rock below. Rhoam used this glider, he reassures himself. How dangerous can it be? _Rhoam was a spirit though,_ his subconscious points out. _For all you know he was just flying._

He takes a running jump and flings himself over the edge, before he can talk himself out of the idea completely. There's a moment of pure terror as the ground rushes up to meet him, the thought _I can't sense my bird_ flashing nonsensically through his mind. But then the glider snaps taut with a spine-shaking jolt and he's _flying_. His joyful shout as he soars above the trees is snatched away by the wind. It's bracingly cold, and his hair whips into his face. Feeling more confident, he twists experimentally and the glider turns smoothly with him. All too quickly, he touches down lightly on the dusty road. He rolls the glider back up, securing it with the leather ties and slinging the straps over his shoulders. The main road from the plateau stretches out ahead of him, just as Rhoam had said. He heads East, to Kakariko village. East, to possible answers.

Everywhere, he can see signs of the faded kingdom the King had described. Warped wooden fences meander drunkenly across the landscape, any livestock they once corralled long since gone. A broken fountain stands dry in the center of a square overgrown with weeds. Crumbling sections of stone wall around it show where buildings once stood. Every now and then something triggers a fragment of memory - marching down a road with other soldiers, soaking weary feet in a stream, sitting on a bench in a courtyard enjoying the afternoon sun. Nothing that gives him any real clues to who he is. He finds one building where rusted halberds have fused into a single mass below the rotted remains of a weapon rack; the guards here hadn't even been able to arm themselves before they were slaughtered. Blackened gouges still mar the earth outside. What did this?

As he approaches the edge of the ruined settlement, he smells smoke on the air. There's a confusion of prints in the mud, leading into the trees. They're new; something happened here recently. Cautiously, he rounds the corner, and his heart sinks at the sight of a traveler face-down in the blood soaked dirt, sword dropped from his outstretched hand and wooden shield by his side. A few crows flap heavily away, croaking their displeasure at being disturbed. The crude arrows sprouting from the man's back and the pervasive stink lingering around both suggest a bokoblin attack; the killers are likely still nearby. Link picks up the man's weapon and shield, apologizing silently for the theft, and goes to check the area. 

He finds three bokos gathered around a campfire, noisily rummaging through the man's things. Two russet-furred juveniles, and a darker adult. As he watches, a fight breaks out between the youngsters over a package of jerky. Taking advantage of their distraction, he circles through the trees to come up behind the older one. Centering himself with a quick breath, he lunges out and drives the borrowed sword into the bokoblin's back. It's harder than he expected it to be. The bokoblin lets out a squeal of pain and slumps to the ground, catching the attention of the other two. Hollering with rage, they grab their clubs from the ground and rush him. He deflects the first's attack with the shield and slashes across its neck. It drops twitching to the dirt with a spray of foul black blood. The third attacks furiously, but its swings are clumsy and easily evaded. He spots an opening and thrusts the sword into its chest. It splutters and convulses for a while before its eyes roll back and its tongue lolls out. Link wrinkles his nose and uses his foot to slide the sword back out.

Rhoam wasn't lying about the military training, it seems. Clearly some things go deeper than memory. Link wipes the blade clean on the grass, grimacing a bit at the blood splatter on his shirt. He won't be able to do much about that for now. What he can do is set the traveller to rights. He doesn't have a shovel to dig a grave, but he builds a rough cairn using the rubble nearby. Once's done he beseeches Hylia to take the man under her care. He hopes that will be good enough; the words for a funeral rite refuse to be coaxed out of his memory. 

A little further away Link finds the man's shabby-looking pony tethered to a tree stump. The piebald mare flicks her ear when he goes to stroke her. "Sorry girl," he murmurs soothingly. "Your owner won't be coming back for you." He plucks an apple from a nearby tree for her and gathers up the traveler's saddlebags, which still hold a few useful things like flint and tinder. He feels slightly guilty, but pragmatically, the man has no further need for them, and Link could certainly use the help. The food spilled about by the bokos he gives up as a loss. The animals will eat it.

The mare is slow and stubborn, but he alternates riding and walking and together they still make better time than he had alone. Mid-afternoon they reach the great river which feeds into lake Hylia. Another shrine sits by the bridge, but it seems all functions of the slate have been restored, since he's offered no new ones this time. He wonders whether Princess Zelda is held in a similar spell as the monks and Rhoam. Is she just a fragment of memory, held in place until he breaks the binding? Is releasing her to a merciful rest the best he can do? It's a depressing possibility to consider. 

That night, huddled in a roadside lean-to some miles down the road, he dreams of a woman draped in white robes. She stands before him, facing away with one gold-wrapped arm thrust outwards. She is wreathed in light, which flares brighter, brighter, _brighter_ , until he can't see anything else. His vision clears; now there's a woman _made_ of light; she's the same, yet somehow not. She raises her white-robed arms and enfolds him in an embrace that feels like rebirth, the glow fading until he can once again make out her familiar features, smiling fondly at him.

~

The morning dawns grey and wet. He'd planned to go past the tower on his way to Kakariko; what he hadn't appreciated is that it's on the opposite side of the river. Thankfully there's a usable ford, so he coaxes his mare gently out into the current. She isn't keen, needing reassurance every step of the way. He's so focused on her he doesn't spot the cresting of a fin above the water until it's too late. The lizalfos breaks the surface with an explosive leap. Link's horse shrieks and rears in alarm, dumping him into the cold rushing water. 

He pushes himself back to the surface, gasping for breath as he draws his sword. His shield is still hanging from the saddle; he'll have to do without it. He scans urgently for the lizalfos, dodging as it tries to skewer him with its spear. He needs to get onto dry land, so it won't have such an advantage. Parrying and evading its jabs one-handed, he backs carefully towards the bank, feeling for solid footing as he goes. Finally he's only ankle-deep, and he settles into a ready stance for it to come at him again, clearing his mind. As it thrusts he evades and swings hard, knocking the spear out of its scaly hands and then pressing in close. It manages to catch him with razor-sharp claws. Hissing, he rams his sword up under the chin where its hide is softest. He lets it drop, kicking it into the deeper water where it's carried away by the current. Link makes his way onto the shore proper, cursing and dripping water. His doublet and undershirt are torn but the wounds don't seem that deep. His horse has thankfully remained nearby, disgruntled but unharmed. Thanking Hylia for his relative good luck, he sloshes over to retrieve her. 

Climbing the tower makes the scrapes on his side sting, and when he gets to the top he sits down against a pillar to clean them with a strip from his ruined shirt and fresh water from his canteen while he waits for the guidance stone to add new map data to the slate. What a start to the day... Entirely fed up with water for now, he decides to cut North to Kakariko rather than following the river. He prods around mentally as he sways in the saddle, in the vague hope that all his memories will just come tumbling out if he comes at them from the right angle. They remain stubbornly absent. It's depressing to know so little about himself. All he knows is that he was a soldier, tasked with protecting the princess and wielding some special sword. Where did he come from? Who were his friends, his family? His hopes and dreams? He really hopes this "Impa" can help him discover more.

The sun is sinking toward the hills by the time he approaches the village. He's weary and damp, and he aches all over; he'd really underestimated how sore a full day's riding would make him after a hundred years' slumber. As he rides into the village square, he's stopped by two guards. Their initial suspicion changes swiftly to deference when they see the slate on his hip, and while one takes his horse the other ushers him up the stairs to an ornate and towering Sheikah-style dwelling. The interior is as traditional as the outside, with paper lanterns casting soft shadows across dark wooden paneling and rich embroidered fabrics. Near the far wall, an old woman dozes gently on a nest of cushions. She jolts awake as he enters, and bursts into a wide grin that makes her eyes crinkle. 

"Link! You're finally awake! It has been a long time, my friend. Come, let me look at you!" she beckons. His silence clearly speaks volumes, because her smile fades. "Do you remember me?" 

"I'm sorry... I don't." Link stumbles forward across the woven rush floor, blinking back tears of relief. To meet someone who knew him, a _friend_ \- it had seemed impossible, when the princess told him how much time had passed. Impa can help him remember. There's a twinge of awkwardness under the relief. She may be his friend, but she's wearing the face of a stranger.

"Ah. Purah and Robbie did suggest memory loss could be a side-effect of the shrine if left running for so long." She sighs gently, and he can tell she's disappointed. It must be just as strange for her, he reflects - to meet a stranger wearing the face of a friend. She forces a smile. "That's alright. How about you just sit down, and I'll fill you in."

It takes Impa some time to recount the events of a century prior. She covers some of the same ground as Rhoam had: their preparations, Ganon's cunning, Link's downfall and Princess Zelda's final order before her grim solo mission. But he can tell she was closer to Link the person, rather than Link the Hylian Champion, and he soaks in the hints at his personality. By the end, the warmth of the room is starting to lull him to sleep despite his desperate thirst for the knowledge and Impa's engaging storytelling. 

"Dear Link, you look exhausted. Why don't you go rest up, and tomorrow we can discuss your plans from here," she smiles.

A hot bath has been drawn for him in one of the rooms upstairs. He sinks into it gratefully, letting the heat soothe his aching muscles. When he's clean and dry he slides into bed, delighted by the cool sheets and comfortable mattress. He falls almost instantly into peaceful sleep; if he's plagued by either visions or nightmares, he doesn't remember in the morning.

~

By the time Link finally stirs, someone has taken away his tattered clothes and left him a new set of plain but well-made travelers' garb. Soft doeskin breeches reinforced at the thigh for riding, a fine linen undershirt and a thick woolen tunic with a hood are all folded neatly next to a sturdy but flexible pair of boots. The fit of each is perfect, as if they were tailored specifically for him. Even the holster for the slate has been cleaned and oiled. Refreshed by a bath and a good night's sleep, Link heads back to finish his talk with Impa in much better spirits. In the hall, a young woman is polishing a stone ornament inscribed with Sheikah runes; at his approach she drops the cloth with a squeak. He can't have met her before, but he knows her face.

_He holds his sword out and shield at chest height, light on his feet. He watches his opponent for any twitches betraying her next move, but her crimson eyes give nothing away beneath the painted crest on her forehead. Her white hair is tightly braided, garb flexible but close-fitting in the Sheikah style. Without warning she leaps, one sword slicing viciously through the air as she whirls towards him, the other trailing behind. He blocks, knocking it to one side, and counters with a swipe which she dodges gracefully. He presses in, and she grins at him as she blocks his blow in return._

_There's a shout from above them. "Ah, Impa! There you are!" the King booms as he enters the training yard, flanked by guards. Both combatants immediately sheath their weapons and drop to one knee, heads down in deference. "The Gerudo have sent news of their excavation," Rhoam announces. "Come, we must discuss how to re-deploy the Sheikah to best support their efforts."_

_"At once, your Majesty," Impa replies, bringing her arm to her chest in a Sheikah salute. She flashes Link an apologetic shrug and hurries after the King._

He comes back to himself to find Paya stammering her way through an introduction. Impa's granddaughter... He can definitely see the family resemblance, in looks if not temperament. He introduces himself, and in an attempt at small talk to fill the awkward silence, asks about her name. For some reason this makes her wail and blush fiercely, and she all but flees from the room. "I'd advise dropping the matter," Impa laughs as she comes down the stairs. 

Paya returns bringing a generous amount of food for a late breakfast: steamed rice, thick fluffy omelette, crisp-fried sprats, tangy sliced vegetables, and bowls of refreshing clear soup. Link, who skipped dinner last night, eats at least three times as much as the two women. Impa smiles at him indulgently.

"You really haven't changed a bit, ha! But we need to discuss your next move. I hate to burden you with this while you are still without your memories, but Hyrule needs you. Zelda cannot contain the beast forever."

"I know. I intend to free the princess," he vows. Quite how he's going to _do_ that, he has no idea, of course.

"Not a memory to your name, and here you are still willing to run headlong into danger," Impa beams. "Well, for that you'll definitely need to retrieve the sword that seals the darkness. Zelda took it with her when she went to face Ganon, but I believe her intention was to hide it for safekeeping in the great forest north of the castle, for the spirits there to keep watch over. Assuming she succeeded, it is likely still there."

Link nods, following along.

"The other thing you will need to do is to free the Divine Beasts from Ganon's malice so they cannot be used against us as they were last time. I admit I have no insight as to how this may be achieved. You may try asking Robbie, up in Akkala far to the north of here. He is the closest thing remaining to an expert on the ancients' war technology. But I think the most important thing you need is to find some way to reconnect with your past. You may have muscle memory, but that alone will not make you the equal of Ganon," she warns.

"I hoped you could help with that," Link says. "You said you knew me before?"

"I can share stories of your past with you, but I suspect that simply _telling_ you will not be enough," she muses. "I suggest visiting places you have a strong connection with. Before it was passed to you, that slate belonged to Zelda. Perhaps you can visit the locations she captured to see if they awaken any lost memories."

Link doesn't understand. "You mean the map pins? There weren't any on the slate when I got it."

"Have you not looked through the images on the slate yet?" At his blank look, Impa gestures for him to hand it over. She spends a few minutes scrolling and swiping with a concerned look on her face before giving it back. "Hmm. It seems the slate has not fared well in its dormant state, but it might be fixable. You could try asking Purah, my sister. She knows the most about its functions."

"Where can I find her?"

"She lives near Hateno village now, a few days' ride to the southeast." Impa throws him a bemused look as he rises to his feet. "You mean to go right now?"

"The princess is waiting," he points out. "And this is a detour."

Impa smiles softly at him. "Zelda has held the Calamity off for a hundred years, Link. She can hold on an extra day while you let yourself recover your strength a bit more. But I suspect there's still no arguing with you. I'll have Paya put together some provisions."


	3. There and Back Again

The trip to Hateno is uneventful, aside from the surreal experience of hearing the story of his own death from a stranger. He camps under the shelter of some high cliffs overnight, and while he hears the distant growling of monsters none approach. He means to keep watch, but the warmth of the fire and the quiet of the night eventually lulls him to a doze. In his half aware state he keeps expecting to see someone across the fire from him, bundled tightly in her bedroll with only a few wisps of blonde hair escaping. 

Hateno is nice. The picturesque town is surrounded by farmland and populated by friendly people who greet him warmly as he passes. It's the largest settlement he's seen since awakening by some margin, and seems to be thriving here at the edge of the world. He checks into the inn and asks about the tech lab. The innkeeper knows very little about it; the Sheikah don't mix much with the locals, it seems.

Purah is... well, the less said about that the better, probably. Still, she restores the slate's picture function after a little negotiation. Specifically, she agrees to fix it in exchange for: 

  1. the strange machine core he'd scavenged from a shrine
  2. a promise to bring her any future strange machine parts he finds, and
  3. a "snap!" to test it's working.



"An _energetic_ one," she scolds as he poses halfheartedly. "You can do better than that! Like this! Genki!"

She then interrogates him about the new runes for hours until Symin suggests they take a break, at which point she throws him out and tells him to come back tomorrow. Symin sends him an apologetic look at this, but Link's honestly glad for the excuse after trying to keep up with Purah's constant commentary. He wonders whether his old self found her this baffling (he finds he's begun to think of his life as something he inherited from a distant, more exciting relative).

"You know, Linky," Purah comments as he leaves, "if you free Zelda from that hideous pig-beast, she can start funding us properly again! You should get on that, _snap snap_."

It's really very difficult to believe that she and Impa are related.

He sweet-talks the innkeeper into giving him the softest bed at no extra charge since the place is almost empty, but despite the comfort sleep eludes him. He can't stop thinking about the princess, still trapped in the castle with a monster while he traipses slowly about the place. He has no idea how long it will take to free her. Fixing the slate _might_ let him recover his memories, which _might_ help him defeat Ganon. Trekking all the way to north Akkala to speak to Robbie _might_ give him a plan to free the Divine Beasts. But what else can he do? Rushing the castle alone with no plan and no sword while he's still rusty and weakened is hardly an option.

~

He dreams of a cozy nook at the back of a crowded workshop, and the blonde girl wearing Hylian blue. They're playing card games at a rickety table with a group of four young Sheikah, and everyone is pleasantly buzzed on plum wine. His companion is demanding they explain the rules yet again, in the loud, slow words of a drunk trying not to slur. Eventually she throws her hands up in defeat and leans back against the threadbare, oil-stained couch. The game winds down; one of the Sheikah pulls out a lute and plays a favorite from the Castle Town taverns; the girl at Link's side snorts with amusement at the ribald lyrics. Time blurs; the bard is idly playing a softer tune and Link notices the girl slumping against his shoulder. He tries to extricate himself, and she rouses enough to turn her face into his neck and murmur that she isn't tired. She's dozed off even before she can finish the sentence. He feels a wave of affection wash over him and reaches out to brush her hair from her face. Purah and Robbie don't notice, too busy cracking up at Robbie's highly improbable tale of being stranded naked in Castle Town. Impa does, and sends him a knowing smirk. Yosa is watching too, his expression unreadable as he strums his lute strings.

~

Link breakfasts on fresh bread slathered in butter and piquant wildberry jam. He's glad Purah didn't invite him to stay the night at the Tech Lab; who knows what she might have fed him. He's unsettled by his dream last night. It's an odd sensation, to experience someone else's feelings. Link knows that, technically, they're _his_ feelings, but knowing that doesn't magically resolve the disconnect. He feels unmoored from reality, adrift without the context of friends or family.

Not in the mood to face Purah yet, he takes Seldon up on his offer of a guided tour. The man's an unassuming and genial guide, and it's a pleasant way to pass an hour or two. He leaves Link in the square once they're finished, where a horde of local children accost him. They want to know _everything_. What weapons does he have, can he dance, has he ever seen a Lynel, has he ever _fought_ a Lynel, could he chop a Lynel's head off like _thwack!_ with his sword, does he think there are really dragons because Teebo said he'd seen one but he must be lying because no one else saw it, can you catch on fire from going on Death Mountain, is there really a _girl_ up at the lab, and so on and on in a breathless chorus. He obliges them as much as he can with such huge holes in his memory, even going so far as to try out some dance moves, but keeps his mouth shut about Purah's predicament. He doesn't imagine she'd react well to finding out he blabbed about it.

He procrastinates some more by heading to the local shrine, intending to train there. Next to it there's a large sign painted with a strange assortment of boxy colorful buildings, proclaiming that BOLSON CONSTRUCTION are creating HOUSES OF THE FUTURE, which are apparently BRIGHT, AIRY AND FULLY CUSTOMIZABLE, and he should INQUIRE TODAY ABOUT THIS AMAZING OPPORTUNITY!

Well, they certainly can't be faulted for their enthusiasm. Intrigued, he heads over the bridge. Bolson Construction turns out to be three very different Hylian men; a young guy with a sledgehammer and an easy grin; a heavyset, taciturn-looking fellow with an impressive mustache; and the most elaborately dressed man Link has ever seen. They're sitting around a campfire making hot drinks, and as Link approaches the leader waves him over with a cheery "Well _hello_ , handsome!"

They tell him they're setting up to demolish the house nearby to clear some land for their housing development. The house was originally built by a Hateno resident who had never returned from Castle Town when the calamity hit, and it's been empty since. The thought of something from his time being demolished sparks a twinge of sadness in Link. 

"How much to buy it off you?" he asks impulsively.

"Well the house is a fixer-upper, I'll give you that, but the going rate for a package of land this size is about... fifty thousand rupees, I'd say," Bolson hums. Link's face must give away his shock because Bolson changes tack. "Say, you're an adventurer, right?" he asks.

"...Right," Link replies, mind still reeling from _fifty thousand rupees_. That should buy _ten_ houses, he's sure. He doesn't think he's ever had fifty thousand rupees.

"I knew it! I can see the passion burning in your eyes," Bolson exclaims. "Maybe we could strike a deal. I sell you this old place for, hmmm, let's say five thousand rupees upfront, and you help us out in return."

Five thousand rupees seems much more achievable. There has to be a catch. "What would I have to do?" he asks warily.

"Oh, nothing much," Bolson says dismissively. "We've been looking at a bigger site in Akkala. Hateno's bursting at the seams you see, there's a lot of demand for new housing and this little plot isn't going to cut it for long. I want _you_ to be our premier, hunkiest, most dashing salesman for Tarrey Town! Tell all your friends and acquaintances! A stud like you must know absolutely tons of people all over the place. If you can get all the houses there preordered, I'll waive the rest of the fee for this place. The boys and I will even fix it up for you before we move on. How about it, champ?" he offers.

Well, Link might not know many people _yet_ , but he's definitely going to be traveling a lot. He can make friends, probably. And while he doesn't have any cash, the pouch full of precious stones he's taken from the shrines will surely command a good price from a jeweler (clearly the ancient monks were worried about currency devaluation when they stocked the places). "It's a deal," he agrees, sticking out his hand to shake on it (he's not going to make the same mistake twice). 

Bolson grips his hand with a slightly unnerving smile. "Just _lovely_ doing business with you. Hudson, Karson, on your feet! We have a charming cottage to spruce up, and then we head for Akkala. Beasts of construction, go!"

~

Purah's in a good mood when he finally arrives at the lab, triumphantly waving around her homemade slate. She doesn't look like she's slept since he left yesterday; there's a manic, haggard edge to her. "I did it Linky!" she trills. "I replicated the runes from your slate into mine. Oh, I improved magnesis a bunch while I was there. This will make setting up experiments so much easier. I souped yours up as well, though I don't know what you'll do with the ability to lift two tons of metal."

Symin gives him a tired smile and hands over Link's slate before returning to his notes, a large mug of coffee in his hand. Link thanks him and buckles it back on. "Hi, Purah. Good afternoon," he says with amusement.

"What? Oh, yes, trivialities. You slept well?" Purah asks distractedly.

Link doesn't bother to respond since she's already not paying attention to his answer. "I'm glad to see you've made some progress," he says instead.

"Of course I have, now I've got original materials to work with again. It was such a drag having to seal that slate away with you for a hundred years," she complains. "You may have personally held science back a century, you do realize that. Oh, I've got some ideas for stasis as well, so come back once you're done with Robbie. Though I don't know why you're even bothering to go see that two-bit hack."

"Impa thinks he might have some ideas on freeing the Divine Beasts," he reminds her.

"Well, I suppose so," she huffs. "But don't get your hopes up! Talk to Jerrin instead. She was one of mine you know; smart girl that one."

~

He goes via the Sheikah tower on the way back to Kakariko, guiding his reluctant mare along the cliffside paths. Annoyingly, a pair of moblins has set up camp around the base of it. They're roasting an entire goat on a spit, scents of game and smoke wafting on the air. He hangs back to work out a plan; he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of one of those clubs if he can avoid it. Picking up a small rock, he crouches behind a bush and takes aim, hitting the one cooking on the back of the head. It turns, gesturing angrily at its companion, which raises its hands in confusion. Before long they're outright brawling, heavy clubs forgotten by the log bench. Link kicks them away down the hill before diving in with his sword.

It doesn't take them long to notice him and put aside their squabbling. He blocks and weaves as they swing barehanded at him. He clips one on the calf; it drops to one knee and he swings up and round with a two-handed grip, slicing through its throat in a dramatic spray. The other lunges and he spins out of range, sword flicking blood drops out in an arc as he turns. The moblin closes the distance again but he's in a ready stance, feet and shield braced. He smashes upwards into its nose. It grabs its snout with both hands, wailing, and Link grips his sword two-handed; slams it up into the moblin's neck. It convulses heavily and drops, tar-like blood pooling around his feet and soaking his boots. He checks on the other, but its quiet burbling has stopped and it lies unmoving, eyes cloudy. He sits down heavily on the moblins' log bench, feeling the adrenaline drain out of him. He's definitely starting to shake the rust off his combat skills. 

This tower also fills in his local map but fails to fix any of the other broken aspects of the slate. After his meeting with Purah, he supposes he hadn't really expected it to. The detour means he's still only partway across Blatchery Plain by sunset of the second day, so he stops at the little hamlet where the road forks up towards Kakariko Bridge, rather than risk the treacherous mountain road in the dark. 

He joins the other guests on the stable's wooden benches to eat. Dinner is a savory vegetable stew topped with herbed dumplings, and a mug full of weak frothy ale. His companions for the night are three merchants, two treasure hunters, and a young man who is apparently a researcher. Link wonders if he ever met Purah before she de-aged herself. Eventually, the conversation turns to monster attacks in the area. 

"I was surprised to see them so close to the main roads," Link observes around a mouthful of dumpling. "Why aren't the guard patrols keeping them back?" He realizes his mistake when everyone looks at him strangely. One of the merchants answers first. 

"You mean the volunteers? They have their work cut out just to keep them out of the villages these days. Only so much they can do, what with the Blood Moons," she says. Everyone else nods sagely. Link's trying to find a non-insane way to admit he has no idea what they're talking about when Hino saves him the trouble. He stands and launches into an excited speech.

"Ah, the blood moon! I have made it my life's work to study this fascinating phenomenon," he enthuses. "Why do the monstrous hordes swell anew each time it appears in the sky? Why did it only start to appear with the return of the Calamity? Why does its appearance not follow the regular cycles of the moon? Truly, it is an endless source of intrigue!" 

Link quietly files the information away. "What have you found out so far?" he asks.

Hino deflates a bit. "Alas, not much," he admits. "But I have found a way to predict the next occurrence a few days in advance!"

Everyone agrees that this is still useful for planning travel, which perks Hino back up a bit, and from there the conversation moves back to other topics. In bed afterwards, Link takes out the slate to study the images held within it again. The quality and accuracy of them is astounding; far better than even the most skilled of painters could produce. It claims to contain thousands of images, but a scant few dozen will display. The rest seem lost to the same corruption as the map data and other functions, and not even Purah could recover them. He examines each of the surviving images carefully, poring over them for details or hints of his old life, but all he feels when looking at them is a nagging sense of loss.

~

Link squints slightly against the harsh lighting in the Kakariko shrine as the training bot circles round him, legs clattering loudly on the smooth floor. His fight against the moblins went well, but he knows he can't be complacent. He still has a long way to go to be in the same league his past self apparently was. The number of rusted, legless guardian husks piled around his apparent last stand had been truly eye-opening (he has a horrifying feeling his recurring dream about being killed by one is a memory, and not just a nightmare). He flinches and shakes his hand out where the bot just zapped him with an energy bolt. It readies its translucent blade for an attack. He chastises himself for getting distracted, and lifts his sword and shield once more.

~

Once he's finished training, he goes to pass Purah's regards on to Impa, along with the hilarious news about her experiment. He's a little hesitant to include the latter, afraid it might upset Impa to hear her elder sister has managed to escape the ravages of time and left her behind. He needn't have worried though. Impa laughs heartily along with him. "That does sound just like Purah. She's always been that way, forever chasing the next thing and never content to just be."

After that he stocks up for his journey to Akkala. All the merchants have clearly been forewarned and refuse to let him pay for any of the supplies he needs, which is handy given that he blew most of his funds impulse-buying a house in Hateno (not that he included _that_ in his sitrep to Impa). Trissa at the general store presses drawstring leather pouches of salt and spices into his hands; Mellie who runs the orchard does the same with a wax-paper package of dried plums and an earthenware jug of plum wine. The farmers Steen and Olkin almost come to blows trying to stuff his saddlebags with carrots and pumpkins, and Link pushes them apart with an exasperated shake of his head. Best of all, Rola at the Fletcher's gifts him a Sheikah bow, asymmetric and crafted from dark supple wood. The bow feels almost as right in his hand as a sword had, but she insists he test it on the range outside to check the draw weight is correct. He's not sure she needs to stand _quite_ so close behind him to check his stance, but can't summon much objection, touch-starved as he is. It doesn't take him long to pepper the targets with arrows, and Rola declares herself satisfied.

He's mounting up when Paya comes hurrying back out again carrying a bundle of cloth.

"Link! I'm so glad I caught you," she pants. "Grandmother remembered this and wanted to give it back to you."

He takes the package from her outstretched hands. The fine blue fabric unfolds into a short-sleeved tunic with intricate white detailing around the throat, in a pattern reminiscent of a sword. Like double vision, he sees another scene overlapping Paya's concerned features.

_Princess Zelda stands in front of him, outstretched hands clasping a bundle of fabric. Her eyes meet his briefly, but quickly slide away again. "Sir Link," she begins. Her tone is formal and stilted. "The royal council felt it appropriate to commission clothing for the Champions, such that all citizens might recognize you and offer their assistance and thanks. I present you this tunic to wear in the execution of your duties. My father also instructs you to wear it to the Inauguration Ceremony tomorrow," she finishes._

_As soon as he takes the garment from her, she inclines her head to him briefly, then turns and hurries away back inside before he can even voice his thanks._

Well. That answers the question of who the girl from his pleasant dream the other night was. He doesn't know whether to be glad to have finally remembered something substantial about his past, or to despair that the one emotional attachment he's remembered so far was apparently completely one-sided. He numbly thanks Paya, who blushes and runs back inside. Then he carefully re-folds the tunic to store in his pack. He doesn't really feel like wearing it again just yet.


	4. In Which Link Is Entirely Surrounded By Water

As Link makes his way forth from Kakariko the weather progresses from merely overcast to an unrelenting downpour. Soon he's soaked through despite his fine new riding cloak. 

He's discovered that relying on his sketchy subconscious memory for navigation isn't necessarily the best idea. The raised path he thought he remembered through the wetlands is a boggy and unkempt mess in the present day, and the guard outpost where he intended to spend the night is abandoned except for a pair of bokoblins squatting there, its roof open to the elements. He ties his tarpaulin up to shield from the rain, but with the ground beneath already sodden it's not much help. He doesn't even attempt a fire; there's nowhere sheltered enough for it to have a hope of surviving.

After a chilly night he washes cold trail mix down with water for an unsatisfying breakfast before heading out. As his horse trudges its muddy way through the marsh, he tries coaxing out some memories as a distraction. All that's come so far is recollections of _other_ times he's been cold and wet. Huddled against a wall on guard duty. Sloshing through an icy stream to lose a pack of wolf-mounted bokoblins in Hebra. Helping to fix a broken wheel on a supply wagon in lashing rain. 

_Pulling a stumbling Zelda along behind him, both of them chilled to the bone by a day spent in flight across the rainswept land. Her hand slips from his grasp, and she drops to her knees in the dirt, hands pressed over her tear-streaked face as she shivers. In fear or grief or cold, he couldn't say. They're both muddy - tired, dirty and defeated - and they're all that's left now._

_Mipha is gone, Urbosa and Daruk, and Revali - all struck down with stunning ease. A few hours ago, Zelda had tentatively wondered about her father, and Link hadn't even been able to summon a reassuring white lie. Rhoam was in the Castle, and they both know what's happened to him._

_Link swallows down worry about his own father; his own grief and rage and fear. There isn't time, he needs to plot a route to safety through a world that's erupted in fire and bloodshed. If he can just get the princess somewhere safe to think for a few hours, let her get a scrap of sleep -_

_As if summoned by his thoughts, he hears the eerie howls of moblins through the trees. He hoists Zelda back to her feet by her armpits, pushing her into a weary jog once more._

After that he tries to keep his imagination to safer, tamer subjects.

~

He's crossing back over Inogo Bridge after climbing the tower, daydreaming of a warm dry bed, when he hears a shout.

"I say! You there!" a voice hails in a cut-glass accent. Link looks around, pushing his wet hair out of his face to see more clearly. He eventually spots the speaker in the water: an enormous scarlet-and-cream Zora, wearing an ornate jewelled harness. 

"A Hylian! You are _exactly_ what I need!" he exclaims, grinning widely. It doesn't seem to have occurred to him that displaying his razor-sharp teeth so clearly might be off-putting to Hylians, rather than reassuring. He surges up the bank, and Link's arm is nearly yanked out of its socket by his enthusiastic handshake. 

"I am so _pleased_ to have found you," he says. "I am Prince Sidon of the Zora, and I was just on my way downriver to the stables near here to seek a brave soul like you! Our domain is in most desperate peril, and I humbly beg your assistance."

The two of them retreat to the camp Link's set up in the relative shelter of the cliff. He tethers his horse to graze half-heartedly on the damp ferns and stokes the campfire back to life. He brews a cup of barley tea while Sidon fills him in. The prince tells him about the divine beast, reawakened from its long slumber beneath the reservoir - Vah Ruta is apparently the source of the constant rainfall, which Sidon claims threatens to soon wipe out not only the Domain, but everything downriver of it too.

Link can only guess that the timing, so soon after his own awakening, is not merely a coincidence. Is Ganon already alert to his presence? Or is the princess becoming weaker, allowing the Calamity to reassert its control over the Beast? He grimaces. It will mean a significant detour from his original plan, but this is clearly a more pressing matter than getting to Robbie. He just hopes he'll be able to stop Vah Ruta without Robbie's input.

"I'll do what I can to help. You have a plan?" he asks. 

Sidon is delighted, and Link is subjected to another shoulder-jarring handshake. "We do indeed. Mere words cannot begin to express my gratitude!" the prince proclaims.

~

The road to the Domain is treacherous, as Sidon had warned. The torrential rain has flooded or eroded many of the paths, and made other stretches perilously slick. He's glad the prince offered to send someone to take his horse to the stables beyond the domain; there's no way she'd have made the journey with the path in this state. At one point the edge of the path crumbles away entirely under his feet, and he falls down the rocky slope with a yelp, nearly ending up in the river.

The winding route is also plagued with lizalfos, despite Sidon's reassurances that their patrols cleared it recently. He deals with as many as he can, thinking of less capable travellers who might fall prey to them. Just as many retreat back to the water once they realize he won't be easy prey. They watch him warily as he goes, only their eyes and nostrils visible above the surface.

Towards lunchtime he rounds the bend in the river, from where he can just about make out the Domain through the driving rain. On a clear day the view from here must be magnificent. He tries to bring up a memory, but he can't really tell whether it's merely his imagination painting the graceful curve of the spire against a bright, cloudless sky in his mind's eye.

Closer to the city, the guards are doing a better job of keeping the lizalfos at bay. He remains cautious, but no more ambushes come as he switchbacks across the river on increasingly-ornate bridges. Around dusk he finally reaches the bridge into the domain itself. Even in weather so miserable, Link can't help but be impressed. The Domain towers overhead, encircling him and reaching skyward from the lake. The entire structure is carved from smooth pale stone which stands in stark contrast to the darkening sky and slate-gray cliffs. It makes him feel like he's being swallowed by a gigantic skeletal sea-monster.

The guards on the bridge have clearly been forewarned of his arrival and step smoothly aside to let him pass. One goes to fetch Sidon, who practically bounces with anticipation. 

"Link! You made it, excellent. Let us go see my father."

~

King Dorephan has _presence_ , looming huge above Link with his shark-tooth smile on his enormous throne. He'd be imposing to meet on the best of days, but Link is wrong-footed almost immediately and things only get worse from there. Dorephan looks like Link's very face causes him pain. His advisor, Muzu, is openly hostile. It turns out this is because he believes Link committed some grave misdeed against the Zora. Link can't really rebut this accusation without any idea what Muzu's talking about. Sidon does his best to mediate, but the audience with the King soon draws to an unsatisfying close.

Sidon promises to try talk his father round, and directs Link to the inn with another promise to come find him in the morning. Link pays for a water bed, which wobbles ominously when he drops his gear on it. There's a little time before dinner still so he decides to go for a walk around, though he soon wishes he hadn't bothered. Everywhere, the Zora watch him. Some of the younger adults are friendly and the children are just excited to see a Hylian, but the older Zora are clearly in a united front with Muzu. After a brief tour of the walls, where he gazes out over the rain-lashed waters below, he heads back to dry off.

The innkeepers, Kodah and Kayden, are apparently old friends of his and sit down with him for a meal of deep fried octopus balls. As they eat, they fill him in on a selection of his past antics with the younger Zora. Link dips his food in the sauce and tries to soak in as much information as he can, grateful for their efforts. Though since he can't reciprocate with any anecdotes of his own, it's a pretty one-sided conversation, and he turns in fairly soon after dinner.

The gentle undulations of the waterbed lull him to a sleep filled with scattered assortments of scenes from the Domain. He struggles on waking to tell what he genuinely remembers and what he invented from the tales he'd been told. Maybe Impa was right after all to not to tell him much of her own memories.

~

Sidon turns up the next morning with a bundle of fabric and a triumphant facial expression. 

"I have a plan for how to get approval to involve you," he announces. "Muzu has father's ear and is the voice of the elders. If we can convince him, father will surely agree. Here, put this on."

He thrusts the bundle at Link, who unrolls it to reveal a set of finely-crafted shark-skin armor in the Zora style. Link rubs his hand along it; in one direction it's wonderfully smooth and in the other, fascinatingly rough. He waits for Sidon to turn round so he can change, but the prince shows no sign of doing so. After a moment Link shrugs and disrobes; apparently modesty isn't really a thing for a race who don't really wear clothes. The leggings are snug, and he hops around like a fool as he pulls them on. 

"What's this for?" he asks as he struggles.

"The armor is yours, actually," Sidon replies. "When I realized who you were I went to retrieve it from my sister's belongings."

"Hang on," Link says. "You didn't know who I was when you asked me to help? You were just going to ask any random old Hylian?"

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," Sidon apologises, sidestepping Link's actual point completely. "I assumed Link must just be a common name for Hylians. Or that perhaps you were named after the Champion. In my defense, I was very young when we last saw one another!"

"We met before?" Link starts on the fastenings on the doublet. Sidon's claim about the armor is plausible; the fit definitely leaves _very_ little to the imagination. "Why do you have armor that belonged to me? Didn't I have it with me, when I -" he snaps his teeth shut on the end of that sentence. 

Sidon looks slightly uncomfortable. "Ah, well. I probably shouldn't be the one to tell you this, but you will need to know before we confront Muzu, and if you've lost your memory... I suppose there's nothing else for it. You and my sister - Mipha - were romantically involved. She made this for you as a wedding gift," he explains.

"A wedding gift? We were _married_?" No wonder Dorephan was so brusque. What the hell, Impa. She could certainly have mentioned _that_ rather than letting him come here so wholly unprepared.

Sidon's shaking his hands in the universal gesture for _no no no_. "You weren't actually married. Ganon attacked before she could even propose, which is why the armor was still here. She never gave it to you."

Link exhales in relief.

"It upsets father that you don't remember her, I think. I don't think he truly blames you for that, and nor do I. The Sheikah technology used to revive you is not well understood; it's unsurprising that it has had side effects. But I think he's having a hard time seeing past it." 

Sidon clasps a hand on Link's shoulder, then goes to get Muzu. Link pulls on the hood-like helm then runs his hands down the armor once more. Emotionally-loaded handcrafted clothes are becoming a theme. He'll have a full wardrobe again in no time at this rate.

He waits by the statue in the heart of the (visible parts of the) Domain. This is Mipha, then. She's breathtakingly beautiful; poised and elegant as she brings her spear down to the plaza floor. He can't wrap his brain around the idea that she'd nearly been his wife. He feels truly awful that he doesn't remember any of it. He reaches to rest one hand gently on a finned foot. 

As if summoned by his touch, a rush of overlapping sensations hits him like an onslaught, dropping him to his knees. 

_Mipha's laugh, light and sparkling -_

_\- her smile and her tender touch on his skin as she heals his wounds -_

_\- her sinuous grace and power as she surges up the waterfalls of the domain -_

_\- her steady confidence with her spear as they spar against each other, light-footed and fluid -_

_\- her protective joy for Sidon, still just a baby with head-fins comically too large -_

How could he have forgotten all this?

Muzu and Sidon arrive at some point but Link can barely pay attention when he's so awash with affection and sorrow. Poor Mipha, snatched away from her people and family so young. Poor Link, for that matter. _Both_ Links - one dead, and the other left behind as everyone he knew and loved was taken from him, even down to the memory. Reduced to a shadow of the man he must have been for someone like Mipha to have loved him. 

Link finally realizes the other two are speaking to him, and manages to tear his gaze from the statue long enough to respond to Muzu's questions. He can't even remember what was said, afterwards. But finally, a crack appears in the Zora stonewalling. 

~

King Dorephan gives his blessing for Link to approach the Divine Beast, but that still leaves the difficult parts of the plan: how to get inside, and how to shut it down. Sidon has some ideas on the first part. It seems the Zora managed to quiet Ruta temporarily with a limited supply of shock arrows.

"None of the shops or merchants here are permitted to carry them though," he says, "given how dangerous they are to us. We'll need to source some more from elsewhere."

Link takes care of that part easily; a relay-trip to Hateno and back via the tower network, and he has a quiver full. Purah surprisingly doesn't charge him, nor seem the least bit interested in what he wants them for. She just demands that he snaps some images of the Divine Beast interior for her to study afterwards. 

He does manage to glean some tips from her at least; she's convinced that re-linking the slate with the main terminal inside will be his best chance of removing control from Vah Ruta's malicious intruder.

"Ganon wormed his way into the Sheikah network a long time ago," she explains. "I suspect he lay dormant until we powered up enough of it for him to use against us. But I'd be surprised if he can keep control through a full reset." 

"We couldn't have tried this before?" Link asks.

Purah levels a look at him. "Not while the Beasts were still being actively controlled by the Malice. Afterwards - perhaps. But, well. That would have required the slate, and the slate was sealed away with you, powering our last-ditch effort to save your life."

"Oh."

"Zelda made a call," Purah says, unusually serious. Her steady gaze looks wrong on her six-year-old features. "A lot of people died, but it was hers to make. It's up to you to show she made the _right_ call."

Link can't find an answer to that, and feels the familiar wash of guilt sloshing around in his stomach. He nods, and Purah claps, her serious mood dissipated.

"Anyway, we still won't be able to reset the Guardians, because the master terminal for them is under the main Sanctum in the palace, and His Pigness is sat right on top of it. But the Divine Beasts have onboard terminals. That's how we got them to accept the Champions as pilots in the first place."

"It's worth a shot. Thanks, Purah," he says.

"Yes, yes. Off you go then. Remember the images!" she shouts as he fades out.

~

Finally all preparations have been made, and Link stands on the East Reservoir pier with Sidon, looking out at the Divine Beast. Its eyes glow the same menacing magenta as the Guardians. Periodically it makes a deafening trumpeting sound or splashes its trunk through the water, creating waves that crash against the cliffs. Ripples from them lap gently at the pier edge.

Link checks one last time that his armor and weapons are secure. Sidon told him the armor will magically enhance his speed and endurance when swimming, and prevent him from drowning for a limited time. The Zora also lent him a waterproof bow and elegant spear that belonged to Mipha for the occasion. He hopes he'll do her justice in wielding them.

"Are you ready?" Sidon asks.

"I'm ready. Let's go."

The experience of riding Sidon bareback to get close to the beast is second only to flying, in Link's opinion (and that's a thought he immediately resolves to never tell either Sidon or Dorephan. He sends a silent apology to Mipha's memory for good measure). Between Sidon's skilled manoeuvring in the water and Link's precise archery, they manage to bring the beast to a brief, shuddering halt.

Triumphant, they head to the entrance, but as they approach Ruta reactivates with an enraged bellow. It lurches onto its legs, rising sluggishly out of the lake with water streaming from its sides. Sidon puts on an incredible burst of speed, but Link can already see they aren't going to make it in time.

"Hold onto your weapons!" Sidon yells up at him.

He rolls to grab Link by the waist and surges out of the water. At the apex of his leap, he flings Link upwards before falling back down into the water with a splash. Link grabs desperately onto the edge of the platform as it rises, legs dangling until he manages to swing up onto the ledge with a heave. He spins round to look at Sidon below.

"I'll wait for you on the shore! Good luck!" the Zora calls. Link flicks a quick salute, and gets to his feet.


	5. Grace Under Pressure

Vah Ruta is cavernous. Seeing it from the pier really didn't do justice to just how mind-bogglingly _big_ it is. Link looks around, trying to work out where the main terminal might be in a construct like this. The platform suspended in the centre of the echoing main chamber? In the head? He should have thought to ask Purah. As he's thinking a faint voice comes from all around him, softer and higher than Zelda's.

"Link..."

"...Mipha?"

"... knew you would come..." she says in a voice that's barely a whisper. Link looks around, but can't see an apparition as he did with Rhoam.

"Mipha, I'm here to try free Ruta," he calls. "Can you tell me where the main terminal is? I don't - I can't remember. The resurrection shrine took my memory."

There's a faint sound, and he strains to hear.

"... the gate ... map ... guide you."

She must mean the barred archway he can see in front of him, down in the belly of the Beast. It's under about eight feet of water, but that shouldn't be an issue so long as he can get the gate open. He looks for a way down. All around, the strange stone walls drip with noxious-looking sludge - it pools on the floor, and oozes over the ledges. He's certain no good can come of touching the stuff, and carefully picks his way around. As he passes, it reaches out to him with amorphous tendrils. He keeps a wider berth after that. 

~

Through the water, Link can see a winch to open the gate. He takes a breath and ducks under the water, tugging at the handle, but the weight of the water around him means it barely budges despite his best efforts. A new plan is needed. He spots what looks like a drain in the floor, plugged tight by a metal disc. Is the weight of water on it more than two tons? Only one way to find out... 

As he surfaces, he's suddenly swarmed by tektites. The chittering, dog-sized insects skate over the surface of the water to jab at him with razor tipped legs, and he curses and ducks back under the water, pushing off the bars of the gate to glide underneath them. He hoists himself out on the other side as quickly as he can, drawing his spear to skewer them as they rush him. One gets under his reach, and his kick connects with a satisfying crunch. 

He's not sure whether this means the Malice has sensed his presence or not - perhaps the nightmare bugs are simply attracted to the malevolent energy pulsing through this place. Still, best not to tarry. He pulls the slate out and uses magnesis to yank out the plug.

The water drains out with a loud gurgling noise, and Link jumps down into the drained pit. Unfortunately the wheel still won't turn - it seems completely rusted shut from being submerged for so long. He needs more leverage... His eyes land on Mipha's spear. Could he?

He jams the tines of the spear through the spokes and hoists his entire body weight over the butt, hoping desperately that the shaft will hold his weight - he doesn't think Dorephan will be very understanding if he breaks it. Thankfully, the wheel judders loose with a squeal, and the gate is finally open. 

The guidance stone doesn't take long to load the map - for all her staggering enormity, Ruta is still small on a cartographic scale. Link peruses it, committing the layout to memory (again). There's a 'schematic' option, which shows the connections of power and water running through Ruta like nerves and veins, through a skeleton of gearshafts and pistons.

As he leaves there's a _plop_ , and several jellies drop down into the pit with him. He skewers the closest with the spear, but it just splits into two smaller blobs that keep coming at him. Right, that's not going to work. He jogs around them, dodging the one that leaps for his legs, and gets enough distance to swap to the slate without being engulfed by slime. Cryonis makes short work of them, and Link rams the spear butt into each afterwards, to shatter them into glittering chips of ice. 

Annoyingly, the terminal is locked out when he reaches it. Mipha speaks up again, to inform him it's a security measure and that to bypass it he will have to reboot all the subordinate terminals first. He supposes it would have been too much, to expect this to be easy. 

~

The Malice is definitely aware of his presence now, and sends everything it possibly can to halt his progress - cascades of water from Vah Ruta's trunk, swarms of sharp-toothed fish, electric eels and octorocks. He hacks, swims and climbs his way through it all until finally he stands in front of Ruta's master terminal once more. Time to see if Purah's idea works. He holds the slate up to it just as he hears Mipha cry out a warning. 

The sludge piled around the terminal boils upwards like steam. Link stumbles backwards, reaching for the spear on his back. The creature which coalesces from the ooze is vaguely Zora-shaped, but malformed and lopsided, with a single glowing eye in its horned mask. One arm is formed into a wicked-looking spear and it wears partial armor made of the same stuff as Vah Ruta itself. Link can't be sure whether he imagined the slime briefly revealing a stretch of maroon hide before oozing back over it again; trying to look directly at its constantly-shifting form is nauseating. 

It lunges towards him with an unearthly shriek, spear-hand aimed straight at his heart. It's fast; Link dodges aside and brings his own spear tip up as he searches for a gap in its defenses. They circle each other for a while in a deadly dance of thrust and parry, until Link realizes he can feel water sloshing around his ankles. He risks a glance and sees that water is sluicing in from the sides, rising rapidly. He'll be at a fatal disadvantage if it gets much higher. He edges carefully towards the closest raised platform, water already nearly up to his knees. The creature lashes out with its spear again and again, forcing him to parry and dodge for his life. The water is up to his waist now and still rising, and Link's beginning to get desperate.

When the creature lunges this time, he ducks and thrusts into the shoulder of its outstretched arm. While it shakes the limb out, Link heaves himself onto the platform. He strikes again, catching it deeply in the neck. It shrieks in rage. Caustic, tar-like slime runs down the spear shaft towards his hand, and he drops it with a gasp. His fingers feel burned from even that instant of contact with the stuff. The creature's spear-arm dangles limp and useless but it lashes out with the other, catching him on the face with its claws. He hisses and rubs his sleeve across his face. 

The creature retreats, sweeping its working arm over the water to send a shower of ice shards speeding towards Link. He blocks his face with his arm and feels cuts stinging all along it. The momentary distraction is enough for the creature to fling a larger chunk of ice. It hits Link with enough force to knock the wind out of him and send him flying right off the platform. He struggles to reorient himself in the oily water, breaking the surface with a wheeze. He's pretty sure he's either bruised or broken a rib; his breaths are shallow and painful. He needs to end this quickly. He dives under the water to avoid the next wave of ice projectiles, kicking off the platform wall to swim around behind the creature. Thankfully, it hasn't seen him and is still barraging the water around his last position with wicked shards of ice.

As quietly as he can, Link eases himself out of the water and readies Mipha's bow. He draws the last three shock arrows from his quiver and nocks one. Pulling the string back to his stinging cheek over the screams of protest from his ribs, he looses the first into the back of its neck. It turns, shuddering, and he sends the second arrow right into its eye. The creature drops convulsing into the water, and Link fires the final arrow with a yell of pain and rage. Lightning crawls over the creature's body, arcing to the surface of the water. It screeches and spasms until the electric surge subsides. 

Dead, the Malice dissolves back into the ooze it came from, spreading thick and oily over the surface of the water. Link slides off the platform into the water with a wince, and awkwardly dog-paddles his way around the noxious puddle. He takes the deepest breath he can manage through the pain - hardly enough, but the magic of the armor sustains him anyway as he dives down to press the Sheikah Slate to the central terminal. It lights up in unthreatening orange with a quiet hum, informing him that it's [Rebooting. Please wait].

Link treads water as the room drains, until his feet touch the floor. He's exhausted now the heat of battle has passed, and his various smaller injuries begin to make themselves known as the adrenaline drains out of him. As soon as the water is low enough, he sinks to the floor and leans against the terminal cradling his ribs. He closes his eyes for a moment.

They fly open again when he feels a cool hand against his face. Mipha is crouched in front of him, ghostly-pale and semi-transparent.

"Mipha," he breathes. His heart turns over in his chest at the sight of her.

She brushes a hand over his cheek, and he feels the tingle of her magic knitting together the lacerations there. As she works, her gaze fixes on his blue coral earrings.

"You still wear them," she smiles. "I wasn't sure you would."

They must have been a gift from her as well. He has no response; all he can do is stare. Mipha brushes her thumb over the newly-mended skin before standing.

"Come, I'd like to see home again," she beckons.

~

He sits on Ruta's upheld trunk, looking out over the Domain with Mipha beside him. It kicks up a memory of sitting here when she was still alive (when they were _both_ still alive), her holding his hand as she healed him. He doesn't remember what they discussed, but he remembers feeling awkward about it. This feels just the same. There are so many things Link wants to say, and he has no idea where to begin. He decides to start with the most straightforward.

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you, Mipha. I wish I could have come sooner," he says. "I wish none of this ever happened. That I'd done things right the first time..."

"It wasn't your fault, Link," she replies gently. "The only person to blame for all that has happened is Ganon. He corrupted the Beasts before you and Zelda could ever have reached him to do your parts."

Link isn't sure how to ask the next part, but he needs to know. "Your brother told me you made this armor for me..." he starts, trailing off.

"I did," she laughs softly. "It took me a long time to make; I never was very good at sewing. But I wanted to make something to show my feelings for you, and it seemed best to make something practical. I didn't think you would have liked a purely ornamental gift." She smiles wryly at him; a shared joke with his former self.

"I'm really sorry I don't remember, I feel terrible about it, believe me. But Sidon said..." he inhales, exhales. "Were we really going to be married?"

Mipha's quiet for a long time. When she speaks, she keeps her gaze directed out, over the water. 

"You probably don't remember this - I doubt you remembered even before - but your father used to bring you along when the Hylian troops trained with us. You were always getting into scrapes, and I would heal your injuries. You were as fascinated by me as I was by you. When you were six you told absolutely everyone you were going to marry me some day. You were so serious about it! I was utterly charmed.

"When we met again, as you were nearly done with your training, I admired the man you were becoming and I realized my feelings towards you had grown into something new. I thought yours towards me had changed too. I had all these grand ideas. How our wedding might go. What it would be like if you stayed here in the Domain with me as my consort. All sorts of foolish notions about how we could make it work." 

Link waits, and Mipha sighs slightly. "No, I don't think we would have married."

"Would King Dorephan have refused permission?" he asks.

"Nothing like that," she replies, headfins flapping lightly as she shakes her head. "Father was always willing to let me make my own choices. I don't wish to sound cruel, but there was little point forbidding it when there would be time enough for me to re-marry after you were gone. But I could hardly hold you to a promise made at six years old. Certainly not once I saw how you looked at Zelda. I knew then you could never be truly happy with me."

Link feels his face flushing with secondhand embarrassment. Past Link was apparently an idiot. "I remember loving you," he says softly. "I barely remember anything else, but I know that much."

"I know," she smiles sadly. "But I think you loved me as a friend only, and I read more into it because I wanted your feelings to match my own." Link starts to apologize, but Mipha interrupts him. "I hold no bitterness over it," she says firmly. 

She seems to be fading a bit around the edges as she speaks, and Link knows they won't have long left. He drops his hand down next to where Mipha's rests against Vah Ruta, and feels a ghostly brush as she wraps her own hand carefully around it. 

"It's hard for me to stay like this," she says. "When you get back to the Domain, tell father I love him, and not to blame himself. And tell Sidon I'm so proud of him," she asks.

"I will. Thank you for everything, Mipha," he says, choking up.

"Take care, Link. I'll be keeping an eye on you. I did promise I would always keep you safe," she says. With that, she fades away entirely.

~

The difference in attitude of the Zora is like night and day when he arrives back in the Domain. Dorephan and Sidon hang on every word of his story, and he can tell they're relieved that Mipha is free of the calamity at last. He hands Mipha's weapons back, though Dorephan insists the armor is his to keep. The King is so pleased he even declares a feast will be held in Link's honour the next day.

Sidon embraces him like the brother he could have been, which sets a twinge of guilt through him. He's certainly not going to relay the last part of his conversation with Mipha to them. It's water under the bridge anyway (no pun intended). Even Muzu makes a surprisingly heartfelt apology. That opens the floodgates for all the other elders, who all want to tell him about how they remember him running around the Domain as a precocious child. He hears from several sources about the time he nearly killed himself trying to dive off the Domain with the Zora youths. 

Link also spends some more time with Kodah and Kayden and their daughter, just hanging out as they help prepare for the celebration. He doesn't pester them for any more tales of his time here as a youth, trusting that the memories will return in time on their own. Instead, he tells them about his own travels since waking, and asks them for funny stories they've accumulated over years of running an inn.

~

Link spends the next morning investigating the two local shrines and the numerous monuments which Muzu helped him locate on the slate's map. He's slowly regaining some familiarity with the Domain and its surroundings. He remembers sunny afternoons exploring the clifftops with Bazz and his friends, sometimes lagging behind and other times easily outpacing the others after a growth spurt. At one of the upper pools, he has a vivid recollection of laughing with Mipha at her brother gambolling in the water. Sidon's carefree innocence had been a welcome break from a week of war councils as the Hylian and Zora forces discussed plans for Ganon's return.

When he returns at dusk the plaza is transformed with tables, benches and banners. A band has set up in the corner to play traditional Zora songs, and people start to move onto the dance floor. Well-rested and recovered from his injuries thanks to Mipha, Link tucks in to the feast with gusto. He samples vibrant yellow sea urchin (surprisingly creamy on the tongue), hearty blueshell snails (chewy but deliciously infused with wild garlic), bright red razorclaw crabs (fun to crack open and full of sweet meat), and stuffed baked porgy with sautéed sea greens (wonderfully fragrant). 

Link rests his chin on his hands and lets the lively music swirl around him as he digests. In the middle of the plaza, Zora wheel and spin around each other like eddies in a stream. He wonders idly whether his wedding would have been like this, if things had gone differently. Mipha would have looked stunning on the dance floor if she danced even half as gracefully as she fought. After a while, Sidon extracts himself from the dancing and slides into the seat next to Link, clapping him on the back hard enough to nearly send him face-first into the table.

"You don't wish to dance? There are several young ladies who would be most disappointed to hear that," he grins.

Link pulls a face. "I'm so full right now I honestly can't move," he admits. "Besides, I'm not sure I could pull off all of those dance moves. Some look more designed for Zora skeletons than Hylian."

Sidon laughs, bright and clear. "I truly cannot thank you enough, Link. Thanks to you our home is safe, and my sister is at peace," he says.

"I couldn't have done it without your help. Mipha's right to be proud of you."

Sidon beams at this, and sweeps Link up into a crushing hug before returning to the dance floor. 

~

Link sinks into the embrace of his water bed once the festivities wind down. He dreams of Mipha's gentle touch, but when he reaches out to her she dissolves into mist.


	6. Homecomings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this so far! From here, we start to get more into worldbuilding. 
> 
> BOTW, like all games (but especially open world ones) is scaled to provide a fun gaming experience, not a realistic setting for a story. In scaling up, we have to consider population as well as distance. Hyrule must have more than a scant few hundred people in it in 'reality', and they need more places to live than a handful of stables. For comparison, the population of Britain immediately after the Black Death was still about 2-3 million people.
> 
> So I'm imagining all of the settlements being much larger than they are in-game, and also that each region has several large population centres as well as smaller settlements. In this chapter, I mention one of those new settlements - Ordorac, which is near the quarry of the same name and populated largely by descendants of refugees from the Calamity.
> 
> Purely for interest: I'm headcanoning that the Zora and Rito can get away with higher population density than the human races, so I've left both of these at one major city each. They live more communally, can make better use of vertical space, and can range much further to obtain food, after all. But I'm still imagining at least one Rito village in the jungle. Kass can't be the only parrot in existence!

Dorephan, Sidon, Muzu and the council listen carefully to his plan, if he can use the word to describe such a loose collection of vague goals. Consult Robbie, free the Beasts, recover the sealing sword - and then, somehow, defeat Ganon. The King declares it a sound idea, which the Zora will support in any way they can; Link has only to ask, and it will be done. Link's keenly aware of what a challenge still lies ahead, but he feels more positive than he has at any point since waking. Less than a month into this insane quest and he's broken one of the divine beasts free of the Malice. He has the vaguest semblance of a plan, and allies who will help him achieve it. Things are looking up.

Sidon is needed to head up efforts to repair the damage Vah Ruta caused, and fight the Lizalfos back to the Goponga wetland again. Link also suspects he wants to go speak to Mipha while that's still a possibility, and can't really begrudge him that. Sidon does promise to send his "very best guard" in his stead, to see Link all the way up to the northern edge of lake Akkala. This turns out to be Gaddison, who's waiting outside the inn as he returns for his belongings. She waves and grins widely when she sees him.

"Link! It's so great you're back. The Big Bad Bazz Brigade wasn't the same without you. We're going to miss you while you're off saving the world again," she teases.

"I'm sure there's enough pig demon to go around for everyone," Link grins back. "I wouldn't deprive you of an opportunity to hit something that big with your spear."

They swim beneath the plaza and under the waterfall, through large, echoing caverns to a dead end. Gaddison tells him to climb onto her back and wrap his arms tight around her shoulders. "You ready? Deep breath, then exhale and hold, we'll be through before you know it!" she instructs.

Link complies, and they dive into the deep, chill water. He lets himself be pulled swiftly through narrow twisting tunnels lit faintly by bioluminescent algae, and fights the increasingly urgent order from his lungs to inhale. They break the surface on the north side of the cliffs which shield the domain, where Link draws a huge, shuddering breath. The magic of the armor held, but the swim was nerve-wracking. He vows never to take that particular shortcut again if he can help it.

~

From there, the journey is easier. Gaddison lets him ride on her back, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair as they make their way downriver through the Ukuku Plains. Birds trill in the trees, which are still largely green - there's just a hint of the autumnal colours for which Akkala is famous. Around midday they're about halfway across Lake Akkala when Link spots a familiar figure on the shore and instructs Gaddison to pull over.

"Hey Bolson!" Link calls, waving to get the attention of the men lounging around their campfire as he wades ashore.

"Hey yourself, hot stuff!" Bolson calls back, eyes roving over Link's tight-fitting Zora armour. "Who's your friend? _Fabulous_ scale colour, darling, I love it."

"This is Gaddison," Link says. "Gaddison, this is Bolson, Karson and Hudson. They're from Hateno and they're building a new settlement here in Akkala." Gaddison bows with a dramatic Zora fin-sweep, which makes Bolson squeal delightedly.

"We are indeed! This is the place," Bolson gestures towards a large rock promontory jutting out into the lake a little further up the shore. "Right over there is the future site of Tarrey Town. Hmm, did you say Gaddi _son_?"

"That's right," Gaddison confirms, looking a little puzzled.

"Oh, well this is just perfect!" exclaims Bolson. "You see, my associates and I have a rather unique company tradition," he says.

"We only hire people whose names end in - _son_ ," Karson elaborates.

"And we need more pairs of hands," Hudson finishes.

"And a Zora could be just what we need" Bolson says, eyeing Gaddison's spear. "You could help us with fishing, guarding, any work we might need to do below the waterline. What do you say - would you be interested in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?"

"You're really building a new town?" she asks. "I haven't heard of anything like that since the Calamity." She falls quiet a moment, lost in thought. "I'd have to think about it. I can't just drop my post in the Domain all of a sudden, I'd need to talk to Prince Sidon first."

"Of course dear," Bolson reassures her. "You make whatever arrangements you need to, and get back to us. You know where we are!"

A thought occurs to Link. "Hold on. How did you all get here before me?" he asks.

"By boat," Hudson replies, one bushy eyebrow disappearing up into his hair.

"Boat?" Link repeats weakly. "There's a boat to Akkala from Hateno? Why did no one tell me?"

"You never asked, darling," Bolson replies breezily. 

Link groans into his hands, remembering his extremely wet ride through the marsh. "I'm such an idiot," he moans. 

Karson slaps him on the back. "Don't need smarts when you look like that, though, right?" he laughs.

"Well I'm glad you came the way you did. We'd never have got your help with Vah Ruta in time otherwise," Gaddison points out.

The others perk up at this. "Oooh. Story time!" Bolson insists. Link squirms a little but starts to tell them about his trip to the Domain, with Gaddison interjecting regularly to make everything sound much more dramatic and heroic. They're an appreciative audience, gasping and cheering at all the right bits. Under his embarrassment Link is also buoyed by their admiration. _He_ might feel like he's stumbled his way to victory though sheer luck, but Bolson and his crew clearly believe in him. 

"I just knew you were the hero type," Bolson gushes when they finish recounting the tale. "You _ooze_ courage."

~

"Are you going to take the job?" he asks Gaddison as he changes back into his travelling gear on the north lake shore, glad to finally be wearing something less restrictive.

"I might," she replies thoughtfully. "It would be nice to do something new for a while." Then she wishes him luck and disappears below the surface to head home. Link gets his bearings, and starts his trek to the nearest stable, where with any luck, his horse will be waiting for him.

~

Compared to the Duelling Peaks and Wetlands stables, which are minor settlements in their own right, Ridgeview stable is small and homely. There's a single open-plan yurt to share between guests and owners, and a sheltered area for the horses near a small windswept vegetable garden overlooking Malin bay. His shaggy mare is among them, looking just as unimpressed as ever. 

The only other guests that night are a pair of truffle hunters. Proprietors and guests eat together - a large hotpot and an array of vegetable sides. After dinner the owners' daughter plays the lute for everyone, smiling shyly at Link throughout the performance. He lets himself soak in the music and the attention as he lounges on the large floor cushions, sated and comfortable. Thoughts about the situation with Mipha (and Zelda) try to nag at him, but he pushes them away.

He leaves at dawn, and from the ridge leading down into central Akkala the view of the sunrise is incredible. The rays peek over the cliffs first, sending fingers of light racing out across the wide grass plains and painting the leaves of the trees in delicate gold. He goads his horse into a gallop down the wide, gentle slopes, her mane and tail streaming out behind her as she eats up the distance.

Around midday he runs into another traveller stopped for lunch at the roadside where the two main routes through Akkala meet. The young man is clad in Sheikah garb, stirring a pot of rice and vegetables. When he meets Link's gaze his eyes are a blue that suggests Hylian blood somewhere in his lineage. He glances at Link's bow, tucked along his horse's flank. 

"You don't see many Hylians carrying Sheikah gear," he observes. His tone is lightly curious, but Link knows there's a more pointed question in the statement. The Sheikah were mistrusted even before the Calamity - there's a reason they live separately, tucked high in the mountains. He can't imagine the situation has improved much since their technology was hijacked by Calamity Ganon to destroy the country. What he's really asking is whether Link is an ally. 

"It was a gift, from a friend in Kakariko," Link replies to put him at ease, still seated in the saddle. 

"Would you like to join me for a bite to eat?" the man asks, gesturing to the bare grass on the other side of his campfire.

Link slides off his horse and sits, gratefully accepting a bowl. "I'm Link. Nice to meet you."

"Granté," the man replies, and shakes Link's offered hand. "Likewise." 

As Link eats, he ponders the itching feeling of familiarity the man is causing him. Something in the tilt of his head; the sweeping gestures of his hands as he speaks. "You aren't related to Doctor Robbie, are you?" he asks.

The man's pale eyebrows rise to his hairline. "I'm his son. Do you know my father? I don't recall meeting you, but I've been away travelling for two years."

His son? That seems... so unlikely. Link hedges with his answer, unsure how much to divulge to this stranger. "... We go a long way back, you could say. Were you sightseeing?" 

"I was studying, with armor masters from all the regions," Granté says proudly. "I hope to be a researcher specialising in armor techniques, like my mother. What do you do?"

Link's about to say he's a soldier when he remembers there aren't any soldiers any more. "I'm... an adventurer, I suppose."

"That must be an interesting life. What brings you to Akkala?" Granté asks.

"I'm on my way to see your father, actually," Link replies. "I'm in need of his expertise with ancient technology."

"Really? I'm heading home myself. We can go together, if you like."

~

It's nice to have someone else along for once, for conversation if nothing else. But Granté is also familiar with the area, taking them on paths Link wouldn't have known about, and helpful in setting up camp, and appreciative of Link's cooking even as limited by ingredients as it is. Plus, he holds his own with a bow when they're attacked by mounted bokoblins halfway across the East Akkala Plains. As they laugh and pant from their attempts at rounding up the feral horses to remove their crude bridles, Link decides he could consider Granté a friend. The first new friend in his new life, assuming that Sidon is a carry-over.

Snatches of memory come to him occasionally as their horses plod along side by side. Of riding behind a white horse in grim silence, choking down feelings of frustration and resentment. Of the Princess yelling at him to stay away, leave her alone, get a mind of his own. Of her sneering at him, asking if he can hear the voice in the sword. He has no idea what his past self did to piss her off so badly.

~

Robbie is peering at a whirring, beeping contraption through a pair of ridiculous goggles as they enter the lab. He remains obliviously absorbed in his work until Granté coughs to get his attention.

"Granté, you're back! ... Is that Link with you? Ha! Purah owes me a hundred rupees. Let's have a look at you then, shirt off!"

"Pardon?" Link responds dumbly. Whatever welcome he was expecting, this wasn't it.

"I want to see how good of a job the shrine did. Given the state you were in that day, it's amazing it healed you at all," Robbie explains. 

"I assumed it must have been bad, if it took a hundred years to fix..."

"What? Oh, no - that was just because the shrine was running on such low power. It was designed to draw energy from the ancient Sheikah network, you see - but that wasn't running until just recently. I assume you're the one who restored it? We spliced the slate in as a temporary power source, which was a bit like cooking a stew with a candle. Effective, but slow."

"... Right." That explains why the slate had been in such a poor state to begin with, Link supposes. And possibly why the shrine had been so dark. His experience with Purah has taught him it's easier to submit and save the effort of arguing, so he lifts his shirt to show Robbie the scars on his torso and turns around when instructed. A short round of poking and close examination later, Robbie leans back and pushes the goggles onto the top of his head.

"A superb job given the circumstances," he declares. "Well! Glad to have you back, better late than never as they say. Oh, where are my manners? This is my wife, Jerrin. She's a researcher of ancient technology too. I see you've already met my son Granté. I think this is as good a time as any for a tea break, and you can fill me in."

~

"So you've already freed Vah Ruta from the Calamity. And you're going to attempt the same for the other Beasts," Robbie summarises once Link finishes describing events thus far.

"That's right. I was hoping you'd have some suggestions. I got very lucky with Ruta. I doubt I'll get that lucky again."

"Especially not now Ganon is likely aware you're back in action," Robbie agrees. "He'll have felt the connection to Ruta sever. We'll need to be cleverer next time." Link feels a tingle of warmth in his chest at Robbie's use of "we".

"Perhaps we could modify the slate to jam his communication with the Beasts while you're within them," Jerrin suggests. "We believe the Guardians are semi-autonomous, but it's likely Ganon can take direct control of the Divine Beasts if he feels it necessary. Detecting you inside one would certainly draw his focus."

"An excellent idea, dearest. If only we could confer with Purah," Robbie sighs. "This would be right up her street."

"It's a shame the slate can only transport one person at a time," Link says. "Otherwise I could go get her for you." All three Sheikah turn to focus intently on him at that. 

"Explain that sentence please," Robbie demands at the same time Jerrin asks "What do you mean by 'transport'?"

"I mean the way you can use it to jump to Sheikah shrines and towers you've visited before," Link explains. "I tried using it while I was on my horse but I ended up on the tower alone."

That prompts an intense flurry of questioning and investigation of the slate. Apparently the teleport function of the slate is a new development, "likely enabled by the Sheikah network's activation," according to Robbie. That sounds plausible to Link. His limited testing of the slate certainly indicates that you need to have activated a region's tower first in order to go to a shrine there. 

"I think we should test your theory about it only taking one person," Jerrin proposes. "Your horse wouldn't have been touching the slate directly. Perhaps another person holding the slate at the same time would also be transported." 

A plan is quickly formed: While Robbie and Jerrin start working on ideas for the Beasts, Link and Granté will ride out to activate the Akkala tower and test whether two people can use the slate at once. If so, Link will go collect Purah and bring her back. If not, Granté will take the slate to her and she will return alone while he travels back the long way. He can stop off at Kakariko to bring Impa up to speed that way too, as Robbie points out.

Jerrin suggests they take the west road to the citadel, going via the shadow pass. That will take them past Ordorac, which in Link's day had been an insignificant place housing less than a hundred quarry workers, lumberjacks and their families. It's now the largest town in Akkala, and Granté assures him it's also the best place to buy a horse. The stables outside its walls are stocked from the semi-wild herds of the rolling hills, descendants of the military horses housed in the encampment below the citadel.

Link has grown somewhat attached to his bad-tempered rescue, but can't deny a smoother-gaited mount would make long journeys a lot easier, and he's going to need one made of much sterner stuff for chasing down monsters.

~

The paddock holds a dozen horses, all of which look in excellent health. Sabin, the horse master, looks over at Link, who's leaning on the fence with his forearms. "Any of them take your fancy?" he asks.

"Let me try something," Link says. He bangs his sword on his shield as loudly as he can. Most of the horses scatter, whinnying in panic, to the far end of the paddock. One, a sleek bay palfrey with a white blaze and socks, wheels round looking for the source of the noise. She side-eyes Link, ears back and nostrils flared in annoyance, but holds her ground.

"That one," he indicates to Sabin, who brings her over and saddles her. Link strokes her face and she whickers gently. _Always take the time to soothe your mount,_ his memory offers up. He swings up into the saddle and nudges her into a walk, then an amble, a canter, and a gallop. She responds to his every gesture like a dream.

Sabin nods in approval. "We've got a jump course set up, if you want to take her round," he says. Link and the mare complete the course with ease, well under the average time, and he knows he's found the one. She's everything he could ever want in a horse; sweet-natured, sure-footed and fearless. "What you gonna call her?" Sabin asks.

He hadn't thought about that yet, but the answer is already there as he opens his mouth to reply. Epona butts her head into his chest affectionately, and as he strokes her velvety ears it feels like coming home, somehow.


	7. What Dreams May Come

Ordorac is a handsome town, with two-story stone houses and narrow cobbled streets around a large central market square. Granté bids Link farewell with a promise to meet back at the gate at noon tomorrow, and Link intends to make the most of his visit. He sells his replenished pouch of gems to a jeweller for more easily-traded rupees and heads to the bustling market. The bulk he exchanges for sword oil and other such essentials, but he shells out a good portion on explosive-tipped arrows, which are a speciality of the ex-mining town. He's beyond excited to try them out. 

He's also excited to try as much street food as he physically can. The food in Akkala is hearty and simple, and he browses carts offering grilled sausages and onions in a tangy sauce, deep-fried dumplings stuffed with minced meat, and a variety of other delicious-smelling things. He buys a wrap stuffed with shredded lamb and pickled cabbage to start.

"You new in town?" the vendor asks as he expertly rolls the wrap up. "Your accent's not local, but I can't place it anywhere else neither."

"Just passing through," Link says, handing over an assortment of loose change.

"That so? You'll be wanting to visit the Goddess Spring, if you've got time - it's only a few hours' ride from here. Proper ruined it is, don't think anyone really knows when it was built. But you can see all the columns where the temple used to be."

That's ringing all kinds of bells. Link balances the food awkwardly in one hand as he swipes through the slate before showing it to the man. "Is this the place?"

The man leans in to peer at the image. "That's the one. Didn't realise you'd gone already. Well, there's some nice gardens on the other side of town from here, those are worth a walk around too."

Link polishes off his wrap, which is tender and savoury and crunchy and juicy in all the right ways, and goes to collect Epona.

~

They make good time on the wide loggers' road through the forest, Link enjoying the warm sun on his face and the birds singing in the trees as Epona ambles happily beneath him. The ride is uneventful at first, but after a while he notices the birdsong and the rustling of small animals in the undergrowth has stopped. The trail up ahead becomes churned, with broken branches strewn around. He pushes Epona to follow the trail of destruction deeper inwards. Soon enough he hears an awful rasping noise and chokes on the fetid stench of monster. He emerges into a clearing, where the source of both is revealed: an enormous hinox, sleeping against a rock outcropping. As it snores, drool drips from the corner of its mouth. Good luck to find it sleeping, at least, he can get the drop on it.

Link dismounts silently, drawing his bow - he doesn't want to get in range of those feet if he can help it. He aims for the throat and lets fly. The arrow lands true, and the hinox wakes with a bellow; the wound doesn't seem to have hindered it at all. Shit. It grabs its log-sized club and charges at him, fast for its size and shaking the earth with every step. The bow was a mistake; Link flings it to the ground and draws his sword and shield, ducking as the hinox swings at him. The tree behind him crashes to the ground with a crack of snapping wood. Too close! Link ducks under the monster's arm again and slashes at its legs. The swing isn't deep enough to hamstring it, though it roars in pain. It swats at him with a massive hand which he narrowly dodges. Speed is really his only advantage here. He darts in and out jabbing at it, staying behind it as best he can while it lunges and flails at him. It's starting to tire, but he knows he's only one misstep from disaster. He needs to get a good hit in before his luck runs out. 

His luck runs out: the hinox finally manages to hit him with a backhand sweep, and he's flung to the ground. Winded, he only just manages to roll out of the way as it stomps where his head had just been. His sword is trapped below its foot, and he runs through a stream of mental curses. He launches himself off the ground at a run, scooping up his discarded bow and turning in one skidding movement. He notches an arrow, dropping to one knee as he brings the bow up. The hinox is lumbering towards him; he'll only get one shot. He forces himself to still. Breathe; aim. It's almost on him. Link sends a desperate prayer up to Hylia and lets fly. The hinox's single yellow eyeball suddenly sprouts fletching as his arrow plunges deep into its skull. Link watches in slow motion as it tips forward and faceplants on the ground with an earthshaking thud. The club it was holding in its outstretched arm hits the ground, bounces, and hits him squarely in the head. 

~

He comes to an indeterminate time later, sprawled on his back squinting up at the sky. It's clouded over, so he has no way to tell how long he's been out. Epona grazes nearby, and the hinox lies where he'd left it. This close the smell is unbearable. He gags and rolls to a sit; the movement makes his vision swirl. He gingerly prods across his temple checking for blood, but thankfully finds none. That didn't go quite how he wanted. He stands, wincing, and gathers his things and his horse. He tries keeping his eyes shut to soothe the pounding of his head but all that does is make his stomach lurch with every step. 

Despite the throb of his head, the swaying motion of horseback must drag him under, because he wakes to Epona snorting and pawing the ground. He slides off her, blearily taking in their surroundings. She must have followed the track all the way to the ruins as he dozed. Well, since he's here... He fumbles the slate from his hip and heads into the basin. Rubble from the fallen columns litters the ground, and the crumbling walls carved into the cliffside are overgrown with moss. There's a small waterfall where a stream trickles over the edge, collecting into the shallow pool below. The goddess statue presides serenely over this scene of decay. If only she could talk.

Link builds a fire and sits back against the basin wall, trying to clear his mind and encourage memories to return. He sees the columns pristine and shining, the Goddess statue resplendent on its ornate platform. Zelda is turning away from him, engulfed in bright light; he reaches out but he's too late, always one step behind... Wait. The image showed this place already in ruins. He frowns, trying to re-focus his thoughts. It's growing dark, suddenly, though he could have sworn he only closed his eyes for a moment. The still surface of the pool reflects the early moonlight.

Like a ghostly echo he sees Zelda kneeling in her prayer gown, hands clasped together and head bowed as she beseeches Hylia for aid. It's not going well. When she starts crying he reaches toward her, a century removed and just as useless as he had been the first time round. Memory-Link mirrors him, indecision warring on his face before he sheathes the Master Sword and wades into the pool. He gently pulls Zelda away onto the drier land where he's built a fire in the shelter of the walls. The same spot Link's fire occupies in the present day, in fact; he's clearly predictable. Past Link doesn't speak, but offers the princess a blanket and a warm cup of soup. Once Zelda finishes drinking, he tentatively rests a hand across her shoulders, and she leans into the touch. The scene fades out, and Link rests his head against the wall, alone once more. He's not sure what he's learned from coming here. 

~

He opens his eyes again to a deep blue night sky awash with stars. His fire has burned down to embers and there's a faint chill in the air. He's losing time, the head injury was clearly worse than he thought. Maybe he should have gone straight back to town. He's summoning the will to climb into his bedroll when he spots movement above. Undulating through the heavens is an enormous dragon, fire flickering at its jaws and along its scaly body. It's incomprehensibly massive, and Link realises with alarm it's heading this way. As it descends it lazily scrapes the treeline of the forest with claws longer than he is tall. 

He's expecting an earthquake when it lands, but it touches down surprisingly lightly and peers over the basin edge like a gigantic and terrifying cat. Its eyes are ancient and fathomless and completely unreadable. It closes them to sniff at him and he freezes in place, but the dragon merely pulls back and huffs at the surface of the water. Even that gentle puff envelops him like a furnace; his dying fire comes roaring back to life. Shimmering gold ripples outwards over the pond, curling around the Goddess statue. Link waits with bated breath to see what the dragon does next, but it just lurches ponderously back into the air, winding its way upwards and upwards until it disappears from sight behind a cloud.

He realises with surprise that his headache is gone, and with it his various cuts and bruises. Huh. From behind the statue, he can see the glow of a shrine that he's sure wasn't there before. That can _definitely_ wait until the morning.

~

His dreams are pure chaos. 

~

He kneels before Zelda in 

dusty darkness, as she pours affection and sorrow into his waiting bones

bright sunlight as she anoints him with resentment

and his heart burns, to know that all she ever wanted was what they already had

his ears burn, to know how little she thinks of him

"I used you, I'm sorry", she says

"Can you hear it yet?", she says

and slips from his grasp 

like smoke

His hand is searing agony -

\- he watches in horror 

as it transforms to a paw the size of a dinner plate, bones cracking 

\- on the back there's a design glowing gold,

burning through his skin like the sun

Adrift in time...

He's ~~nine~~  
seventeen years old,  
kneeling in the ~~ruins of the~~  
Temple of Time, and he knows he ~~can't~~  
must claim the sword. It sings to him, across endless years

... or skyward bound

He launches himself off a cliff  
into empty sky, clouds above and below. 

He falls through  
and through  
and through, 

the storm raging around him, scouring his skin raw.  
It washes away everything he was before,  
leaving blank perfection behind.

~

Link's keenly aware, when he arrives back at Ordorac, that he hasn't bathed, eaten or slept properly since yesterday. Granté's waiting for him as arranged, looking well-groomed and well-rested. 

"You look terrible," he observes. "Did you lose a fight with a hinox?" 

Link scowls at him. "I won, actually." That prompts a rather concerned face, so he adds "I'm fine. Just had a really... weird night."

Granté raises an eyebrow at that but doesn't press the issue further. Link runs his hand through his hair, which somehow dislodges yet more leaves. He feels fractious and tense, like his skin is too small, or his teeth don't fit right in his head. His dreams taunt him. Some of the fragments he can easily dismiss as potential memories (like turning into a wolf...what was _that_ about), but how can he be sure of anything he "remembers" if he's had plausible but contradictory ones? How can he ever hope to become his old self again if he can't even tell what was real? 

It's not helping him work out his relationship with Zelda either. She runs hot and cold towards him in the memories he's recovered, but he has no idea what order they happened in, or whether all of them happened at all. Had he done something terrible, to sour her towards him? He digs his heels to Epona's sides and heads off at a gallop, leaving Granté to catch up. 

~

They round Kanalet ridge in thick fog, finally bringing Akkala Citadel into view. Link exhales harshly. Even with visibility lowered so far, he can tell the fortress is _ruined_. Its impregnable walls are exploded out around the tower base, strewing huge chunks of rubble right across the valley. What's left is utterly consumed by creeping vines. Weeds sprout from between the flagstones and the parade ground is littered with rusted Guardian husks. Looking up, he can see more clinging to the ruined walls.

"What happened here?" he asks, voice breaking.

Granté looks around with mild curiosity. "After the Champions fell, the military focused on aiding the evacuation of central Hyrule. Refugees fled to Hebra, Faron, Necluda... but the majority came here, and the Guardians followed. The garrison held the Akkala span for several days... until Divine Beast Vah Rudania arrived." As he speaks, his face falls; the realisation that what's merely history trivia to him is lived experience to the man beside him, perhaps.

Link closes his eyes; he can imagine the rest. They leave the horses behind because the bridge to the citadel is rotting and decayed, and Link doesn't trust it to hold. Their footsteps echo in the silence of what was once the busiest garrison in all of Hyrule. He wanders the halls which are still accessible, tracing his fingers over crumbling tapestries, dusty weapon racks, splintered beds. Granté follows behind, careful not to disturb his reverie. 

~

It's strange, to be somewhere his past self spent so much time. There are echoes everywhere, tiny snippets of daily life in the garrison. 

In the dormitory he sees Karane excitedly telling the other pages she'd been chosen to squire for a knight, the first of all of them. Remembers crying softly, the first night he arrived; he'd never been away from his mother and sister overnight before. In the library, he hears Pipit quietly confiding his worries for his own widowed mother back in Deya Village. He remembers whiling away long winter evenings reading up on tactics and techniques by lamplight. In the kitchen, he can taste the apple tarts he and Cawlin begged from Henya, the cook; remembers trying to charm the scullery maid, Elise, his awkward teenage self pleased when she giggled and blushed. 

And in the training yard, _so many_ memories, overlapping and merging together. The burn of muscles; the dull pain of getting hit with a practice sword. The sound of Instructor Eagas laughing as Link, still just a page, soundly defeated two squires twice his size. The rise of irritation at Groose playing dirty as they sparred, the bigger boy always trying to get an edge over the commander's son. The swell of pride at winning a mêlée competition being hosted in honour of the visiting Royals. In the stands, he sees the King looking greatly enthused and the Princess looking bored. 

He feels his father's hand clasping on his shoulder in approval and the sting of scraping his hands falling over as a young child. He pulls on his father's leg but the commander's attention doesn't waver from the Zora delegation; the Zora Princess tucks her spear in her elbow, then crouches to take his hands in hers. They're slightly rough, dry and warm. There's a tingling sensation and the stinging stops. Mipha smiles down at him fondly, and he grins back up at her, tears drying on his grubby face.

Link stands where his child self did, looking up at the sky. He feels like an open cup, memory and sensation pouring into him and overflowing. He remembers who his father was. He had friends, a mother, a sister! They pass through what used to be the garden. It's now the site of a mass grave, and Link realises belatedly that there were no skeletons in the citadel. It's good, that people came back to bury them, but it still leaves the taste of ash in his mouth. How many of his fellow knights are buried here? He sweeps the dust and leaves away from the marker stone and reads the inscription.

__

_This stone pays tribute to the brave men and women  
who gave their lives so that many more might live.  
Led by Commander Arn, they held this fort for three days  
until Princess Zelda could seal the Calamity within Hyrule Castle.  
We are eternally grateful for their sacrifice._

His chest tightens. _Commander Arn_. His father is laid to rest here. He rests his hand on the stone and bows his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. His brief joy at remembering his family and friends dissipates. They're all dead. He _knew_ that, but it didn't feel real until now, when he had faces and names to mourn. And they died believing he had failed them all. So many people died because he and Zelda didn't manage to fulfil their destiny in time. He doesn't remember much about those final days ( _except running; except dying_ ). Could different choices in those critical moments have prevented this? After a while he feels Granté's hand on his shoulder.

"We should climb the tower," the Sheikah says gently. 

Link nods, and gets up. Moves on.

~

There's a _flying guardian_ patrolling the area when Link and Granté climb out through a hole in the citadel walls, which is absolute bullshit in Link's opinion. He fights down what would be a very inconveniently-timed panic attack, and settles in to watch from the safety of the rubble.

"I think we can get to the tower sides in the time it takes it to loop back round," he says to Granté. "But it would definitely notice us climbing."

"Could we distract it?" the Sheikah asks.

"Maybe, but probably not for long enough. How about this..."

They let it whirr past once more then leap into action, running to the tower's base. Granté boosts Link up and he grabs the latticework, climbing for all he's worth. Below, the Sheikah runs back to cover. As the Guardian heads back, he fires one of Link's explosive arrows to draw its attention away. It works just long enough; by the time it loses interest Link has pulled himself up onto one of the balconies, and nocked his own arrow. The Guardian notices him, its red laser marking his chest. He lets fly with a sense of vicious satisfaction. The explosion breaks its rotor blades and it drops from the sky like a stone, smashing to pieces on the thoroughfare far below in a dramatic fireball. Link pumps his fist in triumph, and waves Granté over to start his own climb.

Once they've reached the top and updated Link's map, Link removes his updated slate from the pedestal. Suddenly there's a distant **BOOM** , followed by a rumbling that he feels in his bones. The explosion came from the direction of Death Mountain, and to be heard from this far away it must have been _big_. 

That can't be good; either the volcano is erupting, which will make getting to Vah Rudania nigh impossible. Or Vah Rudania _is_ the problem, and Ganon is gaining strength. Hylia only knows what carnage he could wreak with the Eldin Beast fully under his control again. Link sees the utter destruction of the citadel in his mind's eye. He pushes the slate into Granté's hands. 

"Go get Purah!" he yells. He runs to the tower edge, unrolling his glider as he goes, and leaps off into the mist before the Sheikah can even reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, formatting this one was an experience I'm not in a hurry to repeat.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think! Poor Link. He deserves a break.


	8. Onward and Upward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An in-between sort of chapter. We meet a few familiar faces, and Link begins to make plans for Vah Rudania.

Link careens into Foothill Stable several hours after paragliding down from Akkala tower. Epona is lathered, her sides heaving. He strokes her neck, murmurs softly to her in reassurance. She'll need a full rest before he takes her anywhere else. 

"What's been happening with the mountain?" he asks the stable hand as he passes the reins over.

She shrugs, looking anxious. "Not much since the explosion a few hours ago. It doesn't look like it's erupting just yet, but from this distance we should have enough warning to get to safety if it does. You picked a poor time to visit, I'm afraid; even without the volcano, the monsters have been making the route to the city difficult lately."

"Do you know if the road is still passable?"

"I couldn't say, sorry. No one's come down since," she replies. "You want a bed?"

"No, but I'll take some food," he says. "And do you have a map of the area I can look at?"

He's chewing a sandwich of shaved ham and thick-sliced cheese - which he holds one-handed as he examines the routes up the mountain - when he gets the itching feeling of being watched. In the shadow of the doorway a Rito bard is observing him, feathers brushing gently against his lyre. He comes over at Link's eyebrow raise. Link had assumed he was Faronese, based on his jewel-toned plumage, but when he speaks his accent is solidly Hebran.

"You're heading _up_ the erupting volcano?" he asks, peering at the map.

"I am," Link confirms. "Have you just come down?"

The Rito shakes his head. "I'm afraid not; I came from Zora's Domain. They had some interesting things to say about their recent troubles with their Divine Beast," he says, giving Link a curious look-over.

"Is that so," Link replies vaguely, going back to his map. 

He can't really say why he's so keen to brush off the bard's scrutiny, given that he'd - however reluctantly - told Bolson about Vah Ruta. But the idea of complete strangers looking at him and knowing who he is - who he used to be - is making him squirm. He's heard the 'Ballad of the Hero', with its tragic end and its undercurrents of forbidden romance, in a few different inns by now. It's a popular, if melancholy, choice. Any bard will know it; this Rito may well know more about Link than Link does.

What he _wants_ is just a moment to sit and gather his scattered thoughts, to really think about the things he learned at the Citadel - to slot the shards together like puzzle pieces into a coherent whole. But Vah Rudania certainly isn't going to sit and wait for him to be sad about things he can't even change. As disrespectful as it feels to the dead, he has more pressing business.

"I'm heading to Goron City myself, if you'd care for some company?" the bard offers after a while watching him in silence.

Link raises an eyebrow at him. "I don't think it's a good idea for anyone to be going that way right now."

"You are," the Rito counters. "Besides, I'm seeking inspiration for new songs, and do you know, I just have a feeling that the top of Death Mountain is going to be a very _inspiring_ place quite soon."

~

In the end, it's a free country and Link can't actually stop Kass coming with him (as he'd finally introduced himself. Link hadn't given his own name, for obvious reasons). At least he can fly away from danger if things go south. The air is already getting warm as they approach the base of the mountain. The shorter but steeper hike to the city, via South Mine, takes a day and a half, so Link has five days' worth of anti-heatstroke elixirs in his pack, as well as salve to stop sunburn, for the intense sunlight at the higher elevations. The shops in Goron City sell both, so he can restock before heading down, if he has to.

Kass plays as they walk: snatches of unfinished compositions he's working on, instrumental pieces, a few old folk songs; he very pointedly _doesn't_ play the Ballad. Link wants to be annoyed by the distraction, but the music is easy enough to filter into the background. It's actually quite nice, and Kass makes no effort to draw him into conversation - perhaps sensing that Link would prefer to be alone right now. As they near a rocky overhang close to South Mine, Link hears faint scraping, as of claws on stone, and puts an arm out to stop Kass. He lifts a finger to his mouth - _Quiet. Stay here_. Kass nods understanding, eyes wide. Link gets his bow out and creeps closer, an ice arrow nocked. Gaile at the stable assured him the splash of cold it produces on impact will scare off most monsters which might haunt the path up the mountain, but Link's sword is loosened in its scabbard in case that's not true.

He climbs up onto the rock formation to peer behind. A group of lizalfos are lurking, clearly waiting to pounce on any unsuspecting travellers. They haven't seen him yet. Link does a head count: five, poor odds but not insurmountable. Eldin lizalfos spit fluid which ignites on contact with air, he'll need to avoid getting splashed. He wishes he had the slate; a bomb would be perfect right now. Instead, he puts the ice arrow back in his quiver and pulls out an explosive one. He scans the rock face and finds a weak-looking spot close to the top. 

The arrow explodes on impact, sending scree and chunks of rock down onto the monsters below. One lizalfos drops instantly, its head caved in by a boulder. The rest bring their arms up to shield themselves, and Link fires a second arrow directly into the group to send them flying. Another hits the wall with a sickening crunch and doesn't get back up. Link jumps down from the rocks, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. The remaining three lizalfos are already disoriented and injured, but they still outnumber him. 

One rushes him, and is easily dispatched. The other two hang back and get ready to spit. He ducks behind the rock and swaps back to the bow, grabbing two arrows from the quiver. Once he hears the splatter of fireballs against his hiding place, he swings out with his bow up; feels cold clarity settle over him like a trance. Aim, fire, reload. Aim, fire. The two ice arrows hit the lizards square in their open mouths; they flail and claw madly at the shafts. He closes the distance and takes them out with two brutal sword thrusts.

He goes to retrieve Kass from his hiding place, sword cleaned and sheathed. 

"Monsters this close to a settlement isn't good," he says, wiping his sweat-soaked forehead with a sleeve. Kass hums in agreement, and gives Link a calculating gaze.

~

Once upon a time South Mine was the primary Goron settlement, but that was ancient history even before Link's previous life. With its seams largely depleted, little remains of its former glory; these days it mostly serves as a trading post and stop over for travellers en route to Goron City. When Link and Kass arrive, a cluster of Gorons are gathered at the gates, which are bowed inward by fallen rocks.

"Is something wrong?" Kass asks the closest.

"Damn eruption's all but cut us off from the rest o' the mountain," he grumbles. "Reckon we're lookin' at a day's effort minimum, just to get a path through cleared."

"There's no other way through to the city?" Link asks.

The Goron looks him up and down, taking in his stance and the sword at his back. "Well, you could take the tunnels," he says. "We've not checked 'em for cave-ins or lava breaches yet though. Or dodongo," he grins, showing off a wide set of tombstone-like teeth.

Link hesitates, considering his options. Kass coughs lightly. 

"Or, we could fly over the rockslides," he points out.

~

They stay overnight at the backpacker's hostel off the main thoroughfare, which they're shown to by an enthusiastic little Goron called Pelison. Pelison wants to know if they have work for his labourer brother, Greyson, who's disaffected with his current job (and isn't that just a match made in the Sacred Realm? Link lets him know about Bolson's crew and pats himself on the back for a job well done). They're served a fried hash of meat and potatoes, which they wash down with a fresh dose of cooling elixir, and then turn in.

Setting off with the first light, they make it to Goron City ahead of schedule. They're waved through the city gates by a surprised guard; inside there are Gorons everywhere, far more than Link would have expected to see crammed into the space.

Link weaves through the crowds to the central plaza, tailed by Kass. There's a group of Gorons there clustered around a large stone table spread with maps and schematics. An animated discussion is taking place, with several of them gesturing wildly as they speak and others scratching their heads. In the centre a large Goron with a shock of flame-red hair is leaning over the table, giant hands spread over the plans. He seems to be listening to several of the conversations at once. A younger Goron is hanging back at the edge of the group, wringing his hands together. Link approaches the nervous one. 

"What's going on?" he asks.

"Oh, hey little brother," the Goron replies. "There's a lot going on right now, goro! Vah Rudania woke up and it's stomping around causing all kinds of problems. North Mine's been flooded with lava, it had to be evacuated! And the trolley tracks are all buckled, even the ones to the hot springs, and there's rockslides on the roads. No one can go anywhere until they're cleared."

"Yes, we had to fly over a few on the way up here," Kass says. "Does this happen often?"

"Oh, no," the Goron says. "Rudania has been quiet since Daruk's time, until two days ago."

One of the other Gorons notices them. "We're tryna decide if it's safe to start diggin' yet or if we should wait out more tremors," he says.

Another chips in, "Or whether we should evacuate the city too, fall back to South Mine until things calm down."

The red-haired Goron looks up at them. "Bludo should really be makin' this call, since he's the gaffer for the city, but he ain't here," he says. "So once Soto and his boys get here from South Mine we're puttin' it to a vote."

The young Goron wrings his hands together. "I'm sure the Boss will be better soon, Gabro. You know how his back gets."

"Why don't you go check on him, Yunobo?" Gabro suggests dismissively. Yunobo frowns but moves away from the group. Link hurries after him, Kass following close behind.

"Who was that guy?" Link asks.

Yunobo sighs. "Gabro's the foreman of North Mine. He's pretty upset about having to abandon it, I think he'll try something soon whether the Boss signs off or not. If he makes Rudania angrier..." he shudders.

"You're going to see the Boss now?" Link asks. "Could you get us an audience?"

"I can try, but he's not really seeing anyone right now," Yunobo replies. "What do you want to talk to him about?"

Link side-eyes Kass, but there's not really any avoiding it now. "I'm going to offer my services to calm Vah Rudania," he says. "I'm on a quest to free all the Beasts from Ganon's control."

Yunobo gasps. "Are you sure, Brother? You're so little. And Rudania is so scary!" he exclaims.

"I've got to try," Link says. "Just my luck that Rudania kicked off now. If it held off for a few more days, I could have checked back in with Robbie and Purah. I'm sure they've come up with something good by now."

~

Bludo point-blank refuses visitors, so they head to the inn to regroup.

"I think the Boss doesn't like people seeing him like this," Yunobo says. He's hunched in on himself, as though he'd really like to curl into a ball and wait for all these problems to go away. "If he could go soak in the hot springs he'd probably be OK, but with his back and the rockslides there's no way he'd get there right now." 

"Well, if Bludo can't go to the hot springs..." Link begins, looking at Kass.

"... then the hot springs must come to Bludo," Kass finishes Link's train of thought. "How do you propose we do that?"

"I'll need you to do me a favour. Do you know the Sheikah observatory in North Akkala?" Link asks. When Kass nods, looking curious, he unbuckles his holster and hands it over. "I need something from there. Tell them Link sent you, and give them this."

The Rito's head feathers lift in surprise, but he nods and tucks the holster away in his satchel. "I'll set off after we check into the inn," he promises.

"Yunobo, can you find us some barrels?" Link continues. "Nice big metal ones?"

Yunobo brings his hand to his head in a sloppy salute. "You got it, brother!" he cheers.

~

Given how long the Gorons have been welcoming visitors to their home, Link's surprised at how un-adapted the inn is to softer bodies. Even with his bedroll on top, the rock bed is barely better than the ground. The giant slab of eldin ostrich they serve him is charred on the outside, though thankfully still juicy inside, and there's a platter of geode slices despite their table seating no Gorons. The closest thing to a vegetable is some grilled mushrooms on a skewer. He strongly suspects they're pandering to tourists who want an "authentic" experience.

The place is full tonight. Mostly with the Gorons displaced from North Mine, but there are a few other guests stranded by the volcanic activity. A trio of blond Hylian hikers who must be at least brothers, possibly even triplets, who call everyone 'dude'. And a Gerudo, Ramella, who's clearly on her grand tour of Hyrule after coming of age. She's engaged in conversation with Kass, who's trying to convey the intricacies of Goron to her.

"They're not calling you _voe_ when they call you 'brother'," he explains. "The Goron language has no concept of gender, and translation into Hylian is imperfect. I suppose male words feel like a better fit, when they're forced to choose."

Ramella looks thoughtful. "I see. I had wondered before why Gorons are allowed in the Sacred City, but if you are saying they are not really _voe_..." she says.

"As far as I understand it, they're not. In the Rito language we use the same word for the Gorons as we do for other sentient beings which are neither male nor female, such as the spirits of the forest."

"I'm never sure how well the Gorons can _tell_ who's male or female though," Link butts in. "So they might still call you 'brother' even if they had a word for 'sister'."

"You speak from experience, little vai?" she teases.

"Hey, I'm sure I'd look great in sirwal," he volleys back at her. "I've definitely got the calves for it."

Ramella blushes, and Kass bursts out laughing.

~

Kass sets off for the tech lab shortly after dinner, saying he's perfectly happy to fly at night, and Link heads back outside to enjoy the relative cool. From the bench in front of the inn he's got a great view of the gigantic statue of Daruk which has been carved into the mountainside since his last visit. They've done a good job capturing his essence, but looking at it doesn't produce the same flood of memory as Mipha's statue. Well, he wasn't nearly engaged to Daruk, he supposes, snorting at the mental image that produces. He's about to go back inside when he finally feels a memory settling over him. In his mind's eye he sees Daruk sitting down on the bench next to him, his chain clinking softly as he sits.

_"Something bothering you, little guy?" he asks._

_Link shakes his head instinctively, but then reconsiders. If he can't talk to Daruk, who can he talk to? "Just frustrated I guess," he says._

_"Things not going well with Tiny Princess?" Daruk rumbles sympathetically._

_"She's barely spoken a word to me since the King appointed me as her knight," Link says bitterly. "She spends half her time asking her father to change his mind and the other half sneaking away from me. Which she's _surprisingly good at_ , I'm definitely going to be having words with Impa about teaching her stealth. I don't know what his Majesty was thinking. How am I expected to protect someone who can't bear to spend even a moment in my company?"_

_"That sounds tough, brother," Daruk commiserates. "But give her time to come round. She's been used to her freedom, she probably feels like her dad is babying her."_

_"I wish I could," Link sighs "But you know as well as I do that we might not _have_ time. The monsters are getting bolder. And the rumbling from the mountain today while we were on the Divine Beast..." he trails off._

_Daruk looks uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his head with one broad hand. "Yeah, I know. But I know you too. You'll get there, somehow. It's just difficult now, on account of how she thinks you're already who you're meant to be, and she isn't."_

_Link looks sidelong at him. "You know we could both hear you guys at the ceremony, right?" he asks. "She's not a failure. And I'm not a hero. I'm just trying my best and hoping it'll be enough when it matters, same as her."_

_"I don't think _she_ knows that. A sword's a pretty visible thing. It's easy to think you're all sorted out when you walk round with that thing on your back and don't open your mouth. What's that saying, 'better to keep your mouth shut so no one thinks you're an idiot'?" _

_Link's not sure that's quite right, but Daruk's already waving a hand in dismissal. "Or however it goes. Anyway, have you tried talking to her about all this?"_

_"She won't speak to me, so how could I?" Link's aware he sounds defensive._

_"Well, maybe that's what you gotta figure out. You two can't carry on like this, we need to be working together to stop this Ganon character," Daruk says firmly. "And she's our leader, so it's no good her thinkin' that _you_ think she's weak."_

_"I don't know how _anyone_ thinks that!" Link exclaims, frustration finally getting the better of him. "I get that she hasn't found the key to her sealing power yet, but she works _so hard_ at it, and at everything else. She's been vital to the Sheikah researchers, and she's helping all of you master your Beasts. She still has all her court duties, and she's polite to people even though they gossip about her. She's selfless and smart and incredible. I just wish I could make her see that I'm on her side."_

_Daruk's smiling at him now. "Is that so? Then I think the two of you are gonna be just fine," he says. He clamps a giant hand on Link's shoulder before he heads off into the night._


	9. Trial by Fire

Kass reappears shortly after breakfast with Link's slate and a mysterious object. "It was interesting to meet Doctor Robbie in person," he remarks as he hands them over. "He and Director Purah send their regards, and a 'prototype'. They refused to tell me what it does; I gather they intend it to be a surprise for you."

"Thanks Kass. I really appreciate you doing this for me," Link says as he takes the slate and the odd metal tube.

"Think nothing of it," the bard dismisses with a wave of his wing. "It was nice to be among Sheikah again."

"Again?" Link thumbs the button on the tube, and a bright blue energy blade gleams into existence with a low hum. Nice.

"My mentor was Sheikah," Kass replies. "Though I'd never met any of the scientists before, only Chief Impa and some others who live in Kakariko village."

That sets off an itch way at the back of Link's brain, but he doesn't have time for it right now. "Alright, I'll go find Yunobo if you want to grab some shuteye," he says.

~

Between Yunobo's raw strength and the power of the magnesis rune, they manage to bring two large barrels of piping hot springwater back down to the city. Yunobo goes to prepare a bath for Bludo, and Link goes for a walk. There are some new Gorons deep in discussion with Gabro today - the South Mine delegation, presumably. If they're here that means the route down the mountain is clear, which is good news. That means they can clear the civilians out of the area before he goes to deal with Vah Rudania. As he approaches, he can hear Gabro holding court.

"You kiddin' me, Soto? You wanna turn tail without even tryin' to fight first? We already gave up North Mine. Are we Gorons or cuccos?"

Soto, a craggy old Goron, looks unfazed by this taunting. "I'm _sayin'_ we should pull back to South Mine _first_ ," he repeats. "Then send a small force to deal with Rudania once we've got a better plan than 'blast it with the cannons'. How'd that plan work out for you so far, remind me again?"

"We pushed it back to the Caldera," Gabro says. "An' I ain't ever met a monster that cannons didn't do for. It'll work. We just gotta hit it _enough_."

"A Divine Beast might take a bit more dealin' with than your average Talus!" Soto exclaims, throwing his arms up in disbelief.

Link edges through the crowd to stand between the two Gorons, who are now glaring at each other. "Soto's right, you should pull your people back," he says to Gabro. "I can deal with Rudania but I need everyone at a safe distance. Can you tell me more about these cannons?"

Both of them look at him for a second, then burst into laughter. "Who d'you think you are, pipsqueak?" Gabro snorts.

"What's a Hylian doing diggin' into Goron business?" Soto asks. Link bristles, but his reply is cut short by an ear-splitting **"HEY!!"** from behind them. The crowd parts to reveal Yunobo, Kass, and a hunched, craggy Goron with an eyepatch. This must be Bludo.

"What the schist is going on?" he snaps. "Gabro! Soto! Quit yapping at each other like a pair of dogs. Who's the kid?" he asks, clearly spotting Link for the first time.

Yunobo jumps in before Link can. "This is the Hylian I told you about, Boss. He wants to help with Vah Rudania. He already helped me out, and he's a lot stronger than he looks, Goro."

"That true, kid? You fancy yourself some kinda hero?" Bludo asks, squinting at Link.

Link breathes out to calm himself. "I'm just here to help. I have experience dealing with Divine Beasts, and I have tools the Gorons don't. Vah Rudania will only stop for good if I can get this device to the terminal inside it," he says, holding up the Sheikah slate.

"You got any proof that'll work?" Soto asks, looking intrigued.

Kass steps forward. "I can corroborate that claim," he says. "Link has already calmed the Zora beast Vah Ruta when it threatened to flood the entire valley."

That causes uproar, and Bludo has to quiet everyone again with another yell. Soto speaks up again. "Say you're right and you can stop it with that doodad. How d'you plan to get inside?"

Link looks at Gabro. "You mentioned cannons?" he prompts.

Gabro scowls at him. "You've got another thing comin' if you think you can saunter in here and commandeer my cannons!" he barks. Bludo gives him a flat stare with his good eye. 

" _Your_ cannons, Gabro? Last I checked it was Bludo who installed 'em. What's your play, Tiny?"

Link sighs at the nickname, but carries on. "If we can push it back further, inside the Caldera, I should be able to use my glider to get inside from above. You might need to resume the bombardment to stop it coming for the settlements again while I'm shutting it down."

"So you're saying the plan _is_ 'blast it with the cannons'," Gabro grins, smashing his hands together. "Alright, brother, I'm in."

~

The second part of Link's plan unfortunately runs into problems. "The air in the Caldera is bad news for Hylians," Bludo tells him. "Too hot even with your fancy tonics, and toxic to boot. But we can lend you some armor."

While the Gorons discuss tactics for the cannon assault, Link and Kass follow Yunobo to the storerooms to dig the armor out from under piles of junk a century in the making. There's a bulky body made of silica weave, with separate pauldrons to strap over it, plus sturdy heatproof boots and a helmet with an integrated air filter. The whole outfit looks oddly reminiscent of a diving suit. Yunobo says he thinks it was originally made for Princess Zelda, but it fits Link like a glove. Maybe there are some advantages to being short after all.

"So, Yunobo... Daruk didn't happen to leave any sentimental items of clothing behind for me, did he?" Link jokes as he buckles the boots on.

"Er, I don't think so," Yunobo says, hand to his chin as he thinks. "My bandana has his symbol, but I made it myself." Link's about to explain he was only kidding when Yunobo goes "Oh! The buckle was his though, does that count?" He lifts it over his head, tying it around Link's neck instead. It's a sweet gesture, and Link lets it go. As they walk back to the group, another issue with the plan becomes apparent. 

"I don't think I'll be able to use the glider in this," he admits to Bludo, flexing his arms within the stiff casings. "Are there any other options for getting me inside?"

~

"You are aware that this plan is pure insanity," Kass remarks conversationally as the three of them trek over the rocky terrain towards the Caldera. Kass himself won't be able to follow them into it, his Rito lungs being even more sensitive to the noxious gases it emits, but for now he's keeping them company.

"I can't say I'm that fond of it either," Link mutters, helmet tucked under his arm. He'll need to put it on soon, but for now he breathes the somewhat-freer air.

Yunobo looks back over his shoulder at them. "Sorry, little brother," he says. "I'll do my best not to jostle you."

The plan is this: Yunobo, who is apparently Daruk's descendant and who inherited his Protection ability, plus Link, who is supposedly the reincarnation of previous Heroes but apparently inherited none of their sense (Kass's words), will climb into the cannon closest to the Caldera rim. Once the other Gorons have pushed Vah Rudania within range with their cannons, Kass - who for the record accepts no responsibility whatsoever for their inevitable gruesome demise - will fire them from the cannon. Yunobo will hold tightly onto Link and cushion their fall onto the Divine Beast with his shield, then find a corner to hide in while Link defeats the incarnation of Malice currently holding sway over it. What could possibly go wrong?

The first part goes well enough. Rudania retreats to the Caldera, scything its tail and creating tremors with every stamp of its feet. Kass fires them from the cannon, and they're wrapped in a shining orange glow as they slam into the upper deck not far from the control terminal. Even cushioned as they are, the impact shakes the teeth in Link's head. 

They bounce and smash into a pillar, and then Rudania rears up. Link and Yunobo roll straight through the open observation hatch into the Beast's interior, landing with a thud thirty feet below. Yunobo's shield dissolves around them. Link looks up despairingly as the hatch grinds closed, leaving them in total darkness.

"Er... brother? Ohh, I don't like the dark..." Yunobo's anxious voice pipes up right next to Link's ear. Even at that distance Link can't see him. He can't even see his hand in front of his face. He's fumbling for the slate when a ghostly figure materialises next to them. Yunobo screams; Link stifles his own squeak.

"Little guy!" Daruk booms, spreading his arms wide in welcome. "That is you in there, right? Long time no see, brother! I knew the bastards couldn't keep you down. And hey, who's this?"

"Lord Daruk!" Yunobo squeaks, still looking one heartbeat away from a dead faint. "I'm Yunobo. Your, er, great-grandson."

"One o' mine eh?" Daruk grins. "'Course you are, coming here with Link into the jaws of death itself! Any descendant of mine has gotta be the strongest, bravest Goron around!"

Yunobo's going paler the longer Daruk speaks. Link jumps in. "It's good to see you Daruk. Sorry I'm late, I got a bit waylaid by Guardians."

That gets him a chuckle, and Yunobo deflates in relief as Daruk's attention moves away from him. "Can you help us get up to the main control terminal?" Link asks.

"Sure thing, brother," Daruk says. "This way, there's a terminal just over here to get you a map."

Link grabs Yunobo's arm. "Look out for sludge on the floors, it'll probably burn even you," he warns. Yunobo gulps and nods, following Daruk carefully.

~

Daruk fades out again once they have a map, and Link installs Yunobo behind the pedestal for the slate. The tiny room seems safe enough, and the faint glow of the pedestal at least means he won't be sitting in total darkness.

"Stay here," Link instructs him in a low voice. "Stay still and quiet and you should be fine. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The slate and his energy blade light up the area around him in ethereal blue that casts stark shadows across the floor. It's unnerving to be limited to this tiny pool of visibility. He creeps through the darkened beast with the dull rumble of Rudania's machinery vibrating through his feet, picking off monsters as they come screeching out of the blackness towards his face. Fighting in the suit is as hard as he expected, but Robbie's energy weapon makes short work of the slime monsters and keese. Link stays on constant alert for the Blight noticing him and ambushing him in the dark, but it's apparently content to wait for him to come to it. Finally, he manages to get the observation hatches back open, and light and heat flood back into the interior. From there it's just a slow, awkward ladder climb up to the observation deck on Rudania's back.

Hunched in front of the pedestal is a grotesque mockery of a Goron, its bulky form shifting and bulging beneath the bands of armour wrapped around it. One of its arms ends in an energy version of a Goron greatsword. At the tip it's as wide as Link is tall. Link's own weapon feels very inadequate suddenly. The Malice comes for him, the tip of its weapon kicking up sparks on the deck as it swings the blade round in a vicious arc. Link dodges backwards, and it follows up with a fireball. The suit protects him, but he's not sure how much of that it can take. He brings up his shield to try block its next swing, and nearly drops it with the force of the impact jarring down his arm. Goddess, it's strong. It back-hands him out of range and sprays a gout of flame over him. He rolls away, and slashes at its underside as he gets up. The blade glances off a familiar orange shield with a discordant whine. Shit - that's definitely going to make this a lot harder.

This creature isn't as fast as the one in Vah Ruta, but Link's slowed too by the stiff, bulky suit. His usual strategy for strong, slow foes won't work here. He dodges where he can and glances its blows off his shield at an angle where he can't, getting increasingly frustrated as all of his own hits are caught on that Goddess-damned shield. He ducks behind a pillar as it sprays another burst of flame at him, trying to think of any weakness he can exploit. He brushes his hand against the slate, materialising a bomb in the curve of his palm. When the flames die down he whirls out of the cover of the pillar, arm already curving to lob the bomb towards its head. It's distracted enough by his movement that it doesn't quite get the shield up in time; the explosion near its ear has it staggering, but it doesn't fall. That's promising, though; a few more of those should do the trick. Link darts back out of range of its vicious sweep and lines another bomb up. This one explodes harmlessly against its shield, blowing chunks out of the pillar next to it to litter the floor. He summons a third bomb but the blight is quick on the uptake. It rushes him, battering him away with a powerful swing of its arm as it connects.

Link crashes to the floor, breathless with the impact. He pushes up as quickly as he can but the Blight is swinging its weapon towards him with startling speed. He closes his eyes instinctively against impending death, but instead of feeling the impact, he hears a crash and a resonant keening, like a finger on a wineglass amplified a thousand times. He opens his eyes to a shimmering curtain of orange. A sense-memory washes over him, of sprawling wide-eyed against the deck as Daruk's shield protects them both from a rain of boulders. Then it clears and there's just Yunobo, hands splayed as he focuses his power, glaring at the monster.

"Are you OK, brother?" Yunobo asks with a sideways glance. Link nods dumbly, incapable of words. Yunobo looks back at the Blight, which is howling as it batters the forcefield in futile rage. "I can't hold this much longer, goro. Let me know when you're ready," he says, teeth gritted.

Link takes in the scene. Slightly behind the monster's feet, he can see his discarded bomb glowing on the floor, forgotten. He shifts the slate; adjusts his grip on his weapon. "On three," he instructs Yunobo.

The shield drops, and then several things happen almost at once. Link makes a feint with his blade, and the Blight flicks its shield up again; now the bomb is contained within the shimmering sphere. Link smashes the detonate button; the force of the explosion, contained within the monster's shield, sends it sprawling to the deck. As its shield flickers out, Link is ready. He surges forwards and slams his blade through its glaring eye with all the force he can muster.

~

After the creature's twisted body has dissolved into a revolting sludge pile, Link clomps over to re-link the Slate to the terminal. Daruk has reappeared; he can hear him engaged in quiet conversation with Yunobo (quiet for Gorons that is, which is to say he can hear every word even facing away, and through the helmet). Daruk approaches Link afterwards, and clasps him on the shoulder with a broad smile.

"Thanks, little guy. Look after Yunobo for me, alright?"

Link nods, his eyes prickling. "I will. We couldn't have done it without your help, big guy."

"Don't mention it. Hey, pass that here a second, will ya," Daruk gestures to Link's - Daruk's - amulet. He holds it between his hands for a moment, a look of intense concentration on his face, before passing it back. Link tilts his head in a silent question.

"I put some of my power in that for you," Daruk says. "If you're ever in a real tight spot, hold it and concentrate, and Daruk's Protection will have your back."

Then Daruk sweeps him up in a bear hug, and Link laughs, bright and joyful. The Goron Champion sets him carefully back on his feet.

"Alright, hold on you two. Me 'n Rudania will give ya a ride back to town."

~

With most of North Mine still under three feet of lava and its residents still crammed into Goron City or making their way to South Mine for refuge, there's little appetite for a celebration like the one Dorephan held in the domain. But Bludo invites Link, Yunobo and Kass to eat with him and the other Foremen. Link shares a mixed platter of well-grilled meat and vegetables with Kass, and he and Yunobo fill the others in on their exploits inside the Beast. The retelling gets more rambling as it goes, because Gabro keeps topping off Link's cup of ale.

"I dare say I'll have more than enough material for a new song from this," Kass says when they've wound up the tale. Link squints at him. The Goron beer is definitely going to his head; the bard is starting to blur at the edges.

"You're going to write a song about me?" he asks. He's sort of touched. There's already the Ballad of the Hero, of course, but this will be a song about _him_. "That's the nicest - wassit. Thing - anyone has ever done for me," he informs Kass earnestly. Kass is so nice. "You're really nice. And your feathers are pretty."

Kass laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I should be thanking you, my friend. What is a bard without noble exploits about which to sing? And, of course, your actions have made the world that much safer. A song is really the least I can do."

Link nods. That makes sense. A bard is hardly going to bake him a cake, is he? Or - build him a house. Ooh, he should check the house in Hateno, see what Bolson did with it. Wait, songs - that's what they're talking about.

"Make sure you mention Yunobo," he slurs, patting Kass on the chest. "That's very impor- and Daruk! Put him in it too, because - because 's a shame, what happened to him. And where was I, while all that stuff... happened?" 

He pauses for Kass to reply, then realises Kass doesn't know. He answers his own question instead. "Dead! I was dead! And he was dead too, but now I'm not dead and he's still just a ghost. They're all ghosts. 's not very fair, really. I should complain. To Hylia. Once she's not - y'know. Busy."

Kass's expression goes soft. "Come on, why don't we get you to bed?" He pulls Link's arm over his shoulder and helps him up.

~

He dreams of Castle Town burning, a scene of carnage that flickers between pulsing guardians and screeching, lurching corpses with rattling breath -

\- he's fighting giant lava-spitting lizards in claustrophobic tunnels -

\- a demon black as night blots out the sun, its noxious breath making him choke - 

Link wakes sweating, the echoes of a deafening laugh fading away, and realises he forgot his cooling elixir before bed. The heat of the room feels like a physical presence, squatting on his chest. He digs around in his pack for a bottle, and the chill spreads through him as he drinks. A more peaceful sleep reclaims him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Beasts down! There probably won't be an update next week due to the holidays, so I hope you all have as good a time as possible in difficult circumstances, and I'll see you all in the new year. <3


	10. Bad Moon Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Link Makes Poor Life Choices.

Link perches on a stone outcropping, watching the early sun burn the mist off the volcanic slopes. Somewhere on these winding, rocky paths, Zelda bandaged his wounds as the dying sunlight played on her hair, and Link marvelled that she couldn't hear how his blood sang in his veins at her touch, or feel the steady pulsing of his heart in response to her voice. He'd clenched his hands, consumed with the need to brush a stray lock of hair from her face as she concentrated.

 _You're not immortal,_ she'd warned him then. But is he not, if even dying hasn't set him free? How many times must the two of them circle back to the beast? They're trapped in elliptical orbits, with any poor souls unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity dragged along in their destructive wake. 

He lets his mind drift to the things he learned at the Citadel. It feels like he hasn't stopped moving since then; he's had no time to process it all. He wonders what happened to his mother and sister. He could probably ask Impa, but a small part of him doesn't actually want to know. If he never finds out, he can hold onto the hope that they were among the refugees who made it out; that they made new lives for themselves in this diminished Hyrule. Maybe his mother remarried eventually, love and companionship lightening her later years. Maybe Aryll had children of her own, new sparks of joy and vitality amidst the despair brought by the Calamity. 

He might have living relatives. Or, more likely, every single person who ever really mattered to him is dead and gone, and he only avoided joining them because the Goddesses aren't finished with him yet. Hmm. Maybe he should have laid off the Goron beer; it's making him melancholy. Kass alights next to him in a rustle of feathers, interrupting his reverie. 

"I thought I'd come say goodbye," he says. "I wasn't sure whether you'd remember in the morning if I'd said it last night."

"I bounce back quickly," Link says with a wry grin. "You're going home?"

Kass hums in agreement. "As reluctant as I am to leave, I've been away too long. My heart yearns to see my girls. But I don't believe this is farewell. Merely a parting of ways for now."

Link looks out over the rugged terrain, to where he can just make out the towering spires of the castle in the distance. His heart yearns too, for people long since beyond his reach. "I have some things I need to do first," he says. "But I'll have to come your way sooner or later. Vah Medoh will need dealing with."

"I'll keep watch for you, my friend," Kass says warmly. "Until then." And with a sweep of his broad blue wings, he takes off westward.

~

When Link was five, before he was sent to Akkala with his father to train as a page - before Karane and Pipit, before he'd ever set foot in the Temple and thought _I should try pulling the sword, what's the worst that could happen_ \- he had often gone into town with his mother on market day. This is one of the few memories from his early childhood that has burbled up from the depths of his mind, and he treasures it like a precious jewel. Aryll was still just a baby then, bundled up in her wrap at their mother's chest. The three of them would go to seek out interesting goods for the household. They might return with an order for a suckling pig or a basket of voltfruit, that Cook would scramble to accommodate - he's getting distracted.

What he _means_ to think about is the toy shop tucked off the main square. There was a ritual to it: he would tug at his mother's skirts, she would pretend they might not have time. In the end she always relented, and the inside of the shop was essentially paradise to five-year-old Link. Shelf upon shelf was stocked with games and trinkets: wooden skittles, hoops and sticks, baskets of marbles and throwing jacks. In pride of place in the middle of the shop, on a pedestal Link needed to stretch onto his tiptoes to reach, was a finely-crafted mechanism: a painted plate ringed with little horses, that when spun at just the right speed would make them chase after one another just like the real thing. Five-year-old Link had been fully convinced this was genuine magic.

The point is - there's a _moment_ where the illusion kicks in. Before that, it's a nonsensical mess and then suddenly, it resolves into magnificent prancing horses. Link feels a little like he's stuck in the moment before the shift, endlessly waiting for the blur of chaos to resolve into the fabled Hero. Maybe it just needs more of a push, and there's only one place left he can think of to try. It's almost certainly a bad idea, but the only other one he has is 'do nothing, and hope that everything somehow magically works itself out'. Link has never been a _do nothing and wait_ sort of person. 

He feels a swell of empathy for Zelda's tireless and futile attempts to unlock her powers, continually feeling like a disappointment to those around her. When he sees her, the first thing he's going to do is apologise.

~

Link follows the steep switchback road down the west slopes, all the way from South Mine to the Minshi wetlands. He uses the glider where he can, but it's still a challenging, technical route, more suited to rolling down in a ball of stony hide; he has little attention to spare for idle thought during his descent. Another tower has sprouted skyward through the bog here, and he surveys the landscape from the top. To the South, its turrets just visible from here, the Castle perches on its high rock like a great beast.

To the north, the Great Forest stretches away to the distance in an unbroken carpet of green. Somewhere in there, Zelda left the Sword That Seals the Darkness for him. He seriously considers whether he should venture in to find it. A mythical sword could only make his task easier, but something stays his feet. He has little idea what awaits him there, and the notion that he might find the sword but be unable to pull it nags at him. What if it doesn't recognise him as the Hero? The thought of being outright rejected is unbearable. No, better to do all he can to recover himself first, and _then_ retrieve the sword.

Link heads South, across the lush rolling green of the Rauru hills. But by the time he stands on the bank of the Regencia river, looking at the shattered remains of the bridge to the castle mount, doubts have crept in. If Ganon notices him, the chances of making it back out alive are basically nil. Is it recklessly selfish, to even attempt this? What will happen to Zelda if he dies? To Hyrule? He shakes the thoughts away. He has no other choice - he can't hope to beat Ganon as a fractured echo of a better man, rattling around in his own skull and jumping at shadows. He needs to find his old self somewhere in the murky ruins of his mind, and if the answer is anywhere, it's here.

~

He settles into a gouge in the earth, out of the wind, and waits for darkness. The moon hangs red and menacing in the sky when he emerges, which is an ominous sign. He quickly dismisses entering via either the harbour or from the Castle Town side, both of which are likely to be crawling with monsters and Guardians. But he's reasonably sure he remembers a hidden staircase carved into the rock face to reach the harbour from the top. It's this he's aiming for as he paraglides across silently in the dark. It takes him a while to find the stairs, and climbing them in the dark isn't easy; the rope hammered into the rock as a makeshift handrail has long since rotted away. The entire way up his hackles are raised at the thought that there must be more of those flying Guardians. He shoves the thought away roughly, shifts his grip on the mossy stones as he puts one foot cautiously in front of the other, over and over until eventually he emerges onto the clifftop and allows himself a moment to catch his breath. It's quiet, but Guardians don't sleep. He can see several pulsing malevolently in the distance.

He skirts around the outbuildings, seeing the bustle of the castle while it was still occupied overlaid like an after image. Once this place housed an army, and had an army of servants to look after them; cooks, butlers, washerwomen and gardeners all thronged these grounds, and the lower levels of the castle itself. He lets himself in by one of the servants' entrances, passing through the guards' dining room. The tables and chairs have been reduced to splinters, and the banners on the wall are torn and filthy. In the far corner of the room a group of bokoblins are sprawled on their backs, snoring loudly with mouths wide open. He curls his lip at the revolting habits of the creatures Ganon calls his allies, and their insatiable need to destroy anything of beauty or worth. He could slaughter this group with ease, but it would likely rouse the rest of the castle. He tiptoes quietly past instead. 

The narrow staircase emerges in what used to be a grand hallway, and he passes room after room with doors missing or hanging precariously on their hinges. He stops at what he thinks is the Ballroom door, and reaches out to try the handle. 

_He leans against the wall, suppressing a laugh as Zelda collapses into giggles beside him. She looks resplendent in a blue silk gown, but if anyone were to ask him - not that they will - she shines brighter out in the wilds. His own royal guard's tabard is starched and itchy against his neck; he hates having to wear this ridiculous getup to formal events. They're alike, in that respect._

_"My thanks for the rescue, brave sir knight," Zelda teases warmly. "I fear I have whisked you away from destiny though. Lady Allerine did seem extremely keen for you to meet her daughter, who I hear is quite the catch. And only a dozen years your senior, after all!"_

He pauses, hand still outstretched. Through the door he can hear the grunts and snuffles of moblins. His hand drops back to his side, the memory fading around him.

As he slips silently through shadows and across rotting carpet, he sees ruin and decay in evidence everywhere. Through the broken windows to his left, he can see a quiet garden. _Zelda perches on the edge of the fountain in her prayer robes, drifting her fingers lazily through the water. He'll need to remind her to return to her devotions soon, but he can give her a few moments more._ In the present day, large chunks of the fountain lie scattered amongst a tangle of weeds. A lizalfos dozes in the foliage, tail wrapped over its nose. 

Link creeps by quietly and makes for the next staircase, pressing himself against the wall in a shadowy alcove to let the shuffling of a moblin pass him by. Upstairs, he finds the route to the Royal Quarters has collapsed - a pile of beams and masonry blocks the way entirely. He backtracks, but finds the same thing at every turn. There's no getting around it, the only way to Zelda's rooms that remains is to scale the walls from the outside. 

~

He chooses the lee side of the tower, out of the wind and the sinister moonlight. It's a hell of a climb, looking from the ground up, and he's keenly aware it's wide open to the Guardians circling aimlessly in the sky.

He sends silent thanks to Claree for the suppleness of his boots as he works his toes into the first crack. The stone is chilly, sapping the warmth from his fingers despite the relatively balmy night. There's a vague memory itching at him, of making this exact same climb early on in his tenure as Knight Protector to the Princess. Zelda would have been furious, if she'd known; he can hear an echo of her berating his 'paranoia', but he took - he _takes_ \- his job seriously. He needed to know if this is a valid route for an assassin. _The night after their return from the desert, he plants himself on her balcony for his watch. She doesn't say anything, merely grabs him in a fleeting embrace and ducks her forehead against his sternum. He understands the unspoken 'thank you'._

His calves and forearms are burning by the time he drops down over the balcony railing. Half the balcony is gone, and the rest leans drunkenly. The room beyond has fared poorly, exposed to the elements like this. The deep burgundy bed curtains and sheets are balding and moth-eaten; the bookshelves are splintered and waterlogged. He runs a reverent hand over the edge of the writing desk, and tries the drawer. It's locked, but he jimmies it open with the dagger from his boot. Inside is a diary, spared from the worst of the decay. He picks it up, feeling a rush of memory washing over him.

_Zelda running over to the desk to pull out ink and paper to jot down an idea that occurred to her as they were walking back to her quarters. Link watches from the doorway, free to gaze as long as he likes while all her considerable focus is on the notes in front of her -_

_Zelda sits in the chair, her bare feet tucked up under her as she holds the slate up to the light, humming lightly as she swipes -_

_Link raps smartly on the door to collect his new charge for her meeting with the Southern Horse Tribe delegation, and hears a small object _thunk_ against the door and drop to the carpet. "Go away!" her voice floats, annoyed, through the thick wood -_

_He knocks softly with the back of two fingers, cautiously opening the door when there's no reply and slipping through the gap. Zelda is lying face-down on the bed, still in her prayer gown. She doesn't look up as he enters. "Go away," she murmurs flatly into the pillow. Link doesn't go to her, but he slides down the wall to sit with his knees up, and waits -_

_Zelda is sitting at the desk, head resting listlessly on one propped hand. "Zelda," he greets her, and she looks up. "Pack your things," he says, a smile threatening to burst onto his face. Zelda merely looks inquisitive, frowning slightly._

_"I don't need to pack yet," she says. "We're not due to set off for Lanayru until tomorrow morning."_

_"Change of plans. We're going to the Tech Lab, Purah and the others are throwing you a seventeenth birthday party. We'll set off from there tomorrow."_

_"But my father?" she hesitates._

_"What the king doesn't know can't hurt him," Link says resolutely. "You deserve an evening to enjoy yourself for once. I've got the guard covering for us, and we'll still be on schedule for Lanayru. I've been informed that there will be drinking, music, cards and cake. Though I make no guarantees on the quality of the cake - I think Robbie baked it."_

_Heartbreaking joy breaks out on Zelda's face and she embraces him, squealing quietly to herself in excitement, before dashing to her pack to start throwing clothes inside._

A tingle spreads through him. The memory he's cherished since Hateno must have been Zelda's seventeenth birthday party, right before their ill-fated trip to the Spring of Wisdom. That means his friendship with her wasn't something he'd ruined. Rather it was something he'd built, step by painful step, into something strong and warm. He tucks the diary into his pack and examines the diagrams on the wall, trying to see if any are still legible.

 _"Link!"_ he hears Zelda cry out suddenly. " _Link, he knows you're here! I will try to contain him but you must go now! Run!"_

He spots the red flash of a laser sight reflecting off one of the brass lamps and ducks behind the shelter of the desk just in time for the Guardian's blast to take out the rotting floorboards instead of his head. The desk teeters before sliding into the abyss, taking Link with it. He lands awkwardly on a pile of rubble, coughing at the dust cloud kicked up. If one Guardian has seen him, they all know where he is, and with the noise it won't be long until the rest of the castle finds him either. Link picks his way over the debris and runs down the corridor, pain shooting up through his right shin with every step. In the near distance he can hear the growls and baying of bokoblins and moblins. He skids around a corner, bouncing hard off the wall and flying down the spiral staircase. He vaults over a windowsill into the prayer garden, trampling through the foliage and rousing the sleeping lizalfos. It looks round confusedly before giving pursuit. 

As Link looks back, he sees the smoke-form of Ganon roiling above the throne room, crashing over and over against a barrier of shimmering gold. Its red eyes focus on him and it bellows in rage. Link stumbles forwards, and sees the hulking form of a lynel blocking the major thoroughfare out into the grounds. He darts down a side alley between a guardhouse and the guards' bathhouse instead, coming out further up the road. Above, he can hear Guardians circling. There's no way he'll be able to climb back down the way he came. The lynel has spotted him and is charging him down. Link makes for the ruined bridge, legs protesting as he urges a last burst of acceleration from them. He can hear the clattering of hooves behind him as he reaches the drop. He surges forwards and leaps. As the moat rushes up to meet him, he twists himself to point heels-first at the water, arms tucked in around his chest, and prays.

~

He comes to on the bank of the Regencia, face down in the mud and still half in the river. He can't feel his legs. He isn't sure whether that's the chill of the water or something more worrying. Cool, ghostly hands touch the back of his neck. He tries to turn, but Mipha hushes him. "Lie still," she chides. "If you jostle things too much I may not be able to repair the damage." Link closes his eyes again, and lets her soothing hum wash over him while the darkness tugs him back down.

The sky above him is the crimson of fresh blood and shot through with jagged black lines, around a hole that he can't make his eyes look directly at. He sits up, shaking off the ash that seems to have settled over him in drifts as he slept. To the West, Death Mountain spews forth black clouds that endlessly form and reform into red-eyed monsters. Link is on top of the keep of the citadel; a few paces away stands his father, sword held loosely in one hand. His only hand, Link realises with a lurch of his stomach. Arn's other arm ends raggedly at the elbow, and thick gouges run down that side of his armor. His helmet is crushed inward in a way that would have resulted in instant death, were any of this real. Link stares at him. 

"That's it, then?" Arn asks dispassionately. "You're giving up?"

"I'm not giving up!" Link objects.

"What else would you call this stunt? Good men died, to buy you time that you squandered. You ran away, rather than face your demons head on."

"That's not true," Link says, groping towards the memory as he says the words. "The Princess, I was - "

"The Princess knew her duty," Arn says, bringing his sword up to point at Link's chest. "You made her turn back, instead of meeting it. You're still running away. Dying is the coward's way out."

Link rises to his feet; finds his shield is on his arm suddenly, his own sword in his hand. "I'm trying, I - "

Arn swings at him with a vicious overhand blow that Link catches on his shield, arms straining. When he looks up, the dead face staring out from the helmet is no longer his father's but his own, ravaged by time and half-decayed. The sky is pitch-black, and thick mist swirls around Link's ankles.

"Why seek to wear the mantle of a failure?" the decaying soldier rasps at him. "Let him rot in obscurity with the rest of us who failed."

Link finally manages to push the shade's sword to the side, and pushes forward to counterattack. His sword dissolves the illusion, and he's left alone in the formless dreamscape. The ash from the burnt sky settles on his shoulders like a mockery of snow.


	11. Midnight Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a breather for Link, after the events of the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who's kept up with this story so far!

Link wakes on the muddy bank of the river, splayed on his back with one hand coiled loosely around the strap of his pack. He doesn't even try sitting up; he can tell from the feel of his body that pain awaits him. He rolls his head to the side, squinting as the blurry landscape pulls into focus. Peering at him almost nose-to-mask is a dumpy little creature with skin like the smooth bark of a young tree. It's holding the slate awkwardly, both stubby arms hoisting the handle up under its chin to keep the device off the floor. 

"Mr Hero!" it squeaks, nearly losing its grip. It heaves the slate up onto his chest and pushes it into the middle. "I found your thingy Mr Hero!" it informs him earnestly. For a hallucination, it's surprisingly helpful. 

Link fumbles the slate face-up, and manages to key in a location with one thumb. He leaves central Hyrule behind in a swirl of shimmering blue.

~

When he bobs slowly up to the boundary of consciousness next time, he's lying in a bed, propped on a pillow with blankets tucked around him. They're scratchy against his skin, a welcome burst of real sensation after what feels like a lifetime wading through dreams. He cracks one eye open cautiously, wincing at the lance of pain it sends through his skull. Indistinct shapes move in his vision, striping the dim lamplight with shadows. He concentrates, and the dull buzzing resolves into conversation.

"- should get back soon," Paya is saying.

"I understand," Jerrin replies. "We'll let you know if anything changes."

"Where am I?" Link croaks.

Paya startles. "Oh! Link, you're awake! I'll go tell the others," she says before disappearing through the door.

"You're at Akkala tech lab. How are you feeling?" Jerrin asks, settling onto the stool by Link's bedside.

"Like I was run over by a Lynel," Link groans. Jerrin passes him a cup of water, which he sips from gingerly. "I don't remember getting back," he admits. At least he came by this gap in his memories honestly.

"When Death Mountain calmed Granté went to go see what was happening. He found you passed out on the top of Akkala tower in pretty bad shape and brought you back. That was two days ago."

"Two days?"

"You've been in and out since. This is the first time you've been coherent enough to have a conversation. What happened?"

Link prods at his hazy memory. "I think I ... jumped into the moat from the top of Castle Mount?"

She stares at him. "Why did - why were you even _there_? Actually, don't answer that, you may as well wait for everyone so you only need to tell it once."

~

Jerrin helps him down the stairs where Robbie, Granté and Paya are waiting with Impa. There's a spread of food out on the table; plates of bread, cheese and meat fight for space with schematics and gizmos whose purpose Link couldn't even begin to guess. He picks up a roll to chew mechanically once he's deposited onto a chair, and Paya pours him tea from a brown glazed teapot balanced precariously on a pile of books.

"Purah was here too, but she left the day before you arrived," Robbie informs him, the goggles pushed up onto his head making his hair stick out in odd directions. "Said having all of us gathered in one place was only making it easier for Ganon to wipe us out."

"Purah knows her part anyway," Impa says. She's in one of the wicker chairs, feet up on a pile of books with a ludicrous number of cushions tucked in around her. She looks to Link to tell him, "She's making more slates so we can send people around Hyrule more easily."

"Oh yes, we confirmed that the slate will indeed transport two people," Robbie jumps in. "Both have to be firmly holding onto a handle, meaning two is likely the limit unfortunately. Having a few more should improve our responsiveness significantly."

Impa takes back over. "After that she says she has ideas for improving the other runes. It's better if she just gets on with that in Hateno, really. She's right to be concerned about us presenting a single target."

Link nods tiredly. "And the rest of you?"

Jerrin speaks up. "Granté and I have been working on armour designs incorporating ancient technology."

"We think we've got a design that will survive a Guardian's blast," Granté adds from where he leans against the wall with his arms crossed. "We just need to produce a first attempt at it now."

"I'm working on getting Che- er, my old fabricator up and running again," Robbie volunteers. "I should be able to really ramp up production on those blades I sent you the prototype for, assuming we can source enough Guardian parts. I've also had some ideas about adapting the design for arrowheads, but that still needs work."

"Once I've taken grandmother home, I'm going to gather some volunteers from the village to go on a Guardian salvage hunt with me," Paya says, cheeks slightly flushed.

Granté looks over at her, his hair falling over one eye. "I'll come with you, if you want; I know what bits and pieces to look for. Mother can handle the crafting without me now our design is finished."

Paya looks to Jerrin, who nods. "Thank you, then," she smiles.

Link slumps in the chair as the bustle of activity swirls around him. He feels Impa's gaze on him; she always was too observant.

"And you, Link?" she asks. "What is your plan?"

His plan _had_ been to venture deep into enemy territory on the gamble that it would draw the fabled Hylian Champion out from the depths of his mind, but that had been a flat failure - all he has to show for his efforts are a few more dregs of memory and a shattered ankle. That, and rousing Ganon further, making Zelda's job even harder. He screws his eyes shut for a moment and breathes deeply.

"I don't know. I carry on, I suppose. Vah Naboris and Vah Medoh still need severing from Ganon's control."

Impa's watching him shrewdly. "What happened after you left Eldin, Link?"

Link shakes his head, and Impa frowns. "With two Beasts already free, and no indication Ganon is getting any closer to breaking out of Zelda's control, I think you can afford to stop moving for a while. Take stock of where you are, and plan your next moves. Naboris and Medoh aren't going anywhere."

"It's not like I can go anywhere until my ankle finishes healing, anyway," he grumbles.

"I think you should come back to Kakariko with us," she says. "You can have a comfortable guest room there to finish your recuperation, rather than displacing poor Granté from his bed. Besides, it's the star festival next week; I insist you stay for it. Paya, why don't you go help Link pack?"

~

Between the two of them it doesn't take long to gather Link's meagre possessions. Much of the contents of his pack have been spread around the room to dry out from their dunk in the river. He picks up the notebook he'd rescued from the castle, letting out a soft noise of dismay at its waterlogged pages. With shaking hands, he cracks the cover open. Ink smears over the page, the words bleeding together. He flips through, and sees that a few scattered paragraphs have survived here and there, but it's not enough. Nowhere near what he'd hoped for. He presses the diary to his chest, over the dull ache of his sternum. He risked his life for nothing.

Paya's watching him. "This was tucked into the pages," she says softly, fishing a thick piece of paper out from the chaos of the desk and handing it over.

Link takes it. It's an image from the slate, somehow printed onto a glossy sort of parchment. In it, he and the other Champions are arrayed behind Zelda, laughing as Daruk gathers them all in for a bone-crushing hug. He laughs, breath hitching, and traces Zelda's face with his thumb before tucking it carefully back into the book. Paya hands him his pack, her fingers brushing against his as he takes the strap from her. They descend the stairs in silence.

~

With two slates they manage to get four people back to Kakariko with minimal fuss. Paya gets Granté settled into the guest room next to Link's and then comes back to say goodnight before turning in herself. With her hair unbraided over her shoulders and her nightdress brushing against her ankles, any resemblance to her grandmother vanishes. She seems so much younger and softer than Impa had ever been.

Link settles onto a cushion downstairs; he's slept for days, and while more sleep might help lift the lingering aches, he can't bring himself to. He feels like he could stay awake forever, sustained purely by the thrum of tension that runs through him. He wonders if this is how Purah feels all the time.

"It's good to have a companion other than my own thoughts for once," Impa says as she pours him some wine. "Sleep is elusive, at my age."

"Technically I'm your age too," Link points out idly. 

Impa rolls her eyes at him. "Get back to me when you feel each one of those hundred years in your bones and I'll have more sympathy." They sit in silence for a few minutes. Eventually she says, "you've been quiet since your injury. Do you want to talk about it?"

Link doesn't, really, but he knows he can't keep this all balled up beneath his ribs. He needs an outside perspective to help him find the loose end which might begin to unravel it. He rolls the cup between his hands as he thinks. It's been repaired at some point, and he runs his thumb along the seam where it was glued, feeling the slight roughness. 

"I did what you suggested," he says eventually. "Visiting places the old Link went, I mean. And I've remembered - a lot, really, people and places and things - but they don't fit together, they don't make _sense_ , they're just - jumbled bits of trivia. I guess I was hoping going to the Castle would bring the old Link back, somehow, but maybe he can't be brought back. Maybe I'm all there is now."

He doesn't voice the most hidden fear that's been nagging at him for a while now: what if the old Link couldn't have done this either? What if it simply _can't be done_? Is he doomed to spend the rest of eternity dying and getting resurrected to try again, and again, and again? How long can Zelda last, realistically? Two of the Divine Beasts breaking free suggests she's on her last ounces of strength.

Impa, as always, sees through him like glass. "Either that shrine killed off a few brain cells while it was repairing you," she says mildly, "or I'm getting forgetful in my old age, because I'm certain you didn't used to be this dense. Why would you think you aren't enough as you are?"

" _You said_ muscle memory wouldn't make me the equal of Ganon," Link points out, frowning. _You look at me with disappointment,_ he doesn't add. _All of you do._

"Well, what do I know?" Impa says, throwing her hands up. "You've already freed two of the Divine Beasts! Memory or no, the _core_ of who you are, everything that makes you a hero, survived that shrine. Anyone who meets you can sense it, which you must know because you've been making allies and friends everywhere you go if you only stopped to notice. I think at this point my advice is just _be yourself_."

"I -" Link starts. Impa keeps talking right over him. 

"If you won't listen to me, will you listen to other people? Paya, Granté and Jerrin all adore you, and none of them knew you before. Or what about the Rito you've befriended, who came to the tech lab? He told us about the songs he's writing about you. Hopefully he'll leave out this unfortunate new tendency to self sabotage..."

Link thinks back to Yunobo's enthusiastic support, and how the other Gorons had rallied around. Yunobo and Kass both look at him like there's no question he could do anything he put his mind to. He can feel one of the supports of his self-doubt buckling, but he's not quite ready to let it go.

"You know, I might not remember much of our friendship but I'm sure you didn't used to sass me this much," Link frowns at Impa, to avoid having to discuss feelings any more. 

Impa rolls her eyes at him once more. "I've lived an entire life since then; I exhausted my capacity for caring about offending people about sixty years ago. Go to bed, Link. I think you'll feel better in the morning."

~

He does actually feel a bit better for the sleep, not that he'd admit so to Impa. He spends the next day exploring the village more thoroughly than he had on his previous visits. Kakariko's thatched timber houses, scattered among terraced fields and strung with bunting, give the place a sleepy, rustic sort of charm. Link feels like no misfortune could ever occur in a place this peaceful, though the quiet little graveyard reminds him that even this place isn't completely removed from reality. A pair of sisters called Koko and Cottla grab one of his hands each and tug him round on an enthusiastic tour in which they talk over one another at a mile a minute and disagree about everything. It's tough on his still-healing ankle, and he doesn't learn nearly as much as he had on Seldon's tour of Hateno, but he definitely has a lot more fun. The older Sheikah watch him curiously, as if they're not entirely sure what to make of him. He throws himself into helping out just for something to pass the time - picking fruit, feeding cuccos, sweeping. It helps keep the buzz in his head down.

He spends the evening tucked into bed paging through what's left of Zelda's diary. Even with so little left legible, it actually does help to see Zelda's thoughts laid out in order. 

_my father is assigning HIM as my appointed knight..._

_not a word passes his lips... He must despise me._

_I said something awful to him today..._

_Tomorrow, I shall apologize for all that has transpired between us._

_Bit by bit, I've gotten Link to open up to me._

_I always believed him to be simply a gifted person who had never faced a day of hardship. How wrong I was..._

_I wish to talk with him more and to see what lies beneath those calm waters, to hear him speak freely and openly... And perhaps I, too, will be able to bare my soul to him and share the demons that have plagued me all these years._

_Tomorrow I journey with Link to the Spring of Wisdom_

He stops reading, tucking a leather strip between the pages and closing the book softly. The passages referring to him had been both painful and enlightening to read - how they'd misunderstood one another, to begin with! If only he'd had these thoughts to read a century ago, so much of their initial difficulties could have been bypassed completely. If only he'd thought to voice his own thoughts to her. Yet by the end there had been understanding, camaraderie. If Ganon hadn't struck when he did, what would the next entries have said? How would their story have continued?

Link has been carrying around the idea for some time that his feelings were one-sided. The diary doesn't explicitly say so anywhere still readable, but reading between the lines certainly hints that Zelda reciprocated to at least some extent. That would have been a problem, Before. Zelda had a very clear path laid out for her life, one which intersected with his only in the context of their shared duty. But there's no more royal family now; no rules of conduct, no court or courtiers. 

He's getting ahead of himself though. Zelda may be trapped in the same in-between state as the Champions and monks, not dead but not truly alive. She may not hold the same affection for him that she did for his predecessor. He can tuck this knowledge under his ribs like a talisman, but not be consumed by thoughts of it. He has a mission to focus on, first. When he goes to sleep he tucks the diary under his pillow. He can keep Zelda's words safe and close, even if he can't do the same for her just yet.

~

Apparently even entertaining the possibility that Zelda might have returned his feelings is all it takes to send his dreams in scandalous directions. Link wakes still hot and bothered from the tail end of the dream; a flush of blood across his nose and cheeks (and other, less innocuous places). He lies face down until the feeling passes before venturing out of bed. He knows absolutely that he can't tolerate another day of mooching around Kakariko; his ankle is good enough to walk on so long as he binds it tightly, and he's itching to be away. He's packing when Impa stops in the open doorway to the guest room.

"Leaving already? I'd hoped you'd stay for the festival." She looks disappointed.

"You said it's a week from now? I'll be back by then," he promises.

"Where are you going to go?"

"I thought the Castle was the only place left with significant memories, but it wasn't. The last place we went was the Spring of Wisdom. If I can get a better understanding of those last few days..."

Impa still doesn't look impressed, but she nods slightly. "Be careful," is all she says before she leaves.

~

Several days later than he intended, Link finally materialises at the tower overlooking the lower slopes of Death Mountain. From such an elevated start, he can glide down the incline most of the way to Foothill Stable. The vibrant colours of the hot springs around the base look incredible from above, and he glides clear over the head of a confused-looking talus.

Epona is less than pleased to see him. She turns around in her stall to face her butt towards him, and doesn't respond when he tries to offer a carrot. In hindsight, he supposes he did leave in rather a hurry for a rather long time without properly saying goodbye.

"I'm sorry girl," he croons, stroking her flank. Eventually she turns round and snorts at him, sending his hair in all directions over his face. "I guess I deserved that. I promise, I won't leave you again without letting you know what's going on."

The stablehand looks over with a smile. "That one made herself a favourite of all the staff while she's been here - we'll be sorry to see her go. We were starting to wonder if something had happened to you, that's a long time for a Hylian to spend up the mountain."

"Ah, I got a bit... sidetracked. How much do I owe you?"

Purse significantly lighter, Link and Epona emerge onto the main road south from the mountain. It's a long ride back to Kakariko, but he has a lot to think about to occupy all that time. For now, he urges Epona to a gallop on the gravel path, and lets the rush of wind chase his thoughts away.


	12. Cold Comfort

Link skirts past Kakariko on his way back, heading straight for Lanayru. Crumbling promenades line the entire northern edge of the lake, stretching almost the entire way to the foot of the mountain. Link's not sure he ever knew who built these ruins. Time has worn down their facades, cracked their pillars - much of it lies under the lake, and the reflections on the glassy surface confuse the perspective. Other than the faint buzz of dragonflies over the shallow water, the only sound is the steady clop of Epona's hooves echoing in the empty space. 

He spends the first few hours of the ride circling the same mental paths until they're worn smooth. Thoughts of home, family, and duty harry him - and running over and through them all, thoughts of Zelda. After a while he decides to try keep his mind otherwise occupied. He dredges through his memories for songs he sang in the army. Marching tunes, ditties, mournful ballads about leaving your love behind to go to war... though if anything, _he's_ the one left behind. Zelda went to war without him, and is trapped there still. Filling the oppressive silence with song lifts his spirits, and the acoustics here are excellent; his voice reverberates off the walls so richly it's almost possible to imagine he's singing in chorus with others. Epona tosses her head as he sings, signalling those she approves or disapproves of.

When dusk falls he chooses a sheltered alcove in which to camp; he goes for the one with the most foliage breaking through the flagstones, on the basis that Epona would probably prefer it. Then he shucks off his boots and rolls up his trousers to go fishing in the lake. He sits under the overhang to roast his fish over a cheerful fire built on the flagstones outside. Sitting here in the moments between day and night, surrounded by the remnants of a forgotten culture, it feels almost as if he's somehow tumbled out of the current of time, and it's flowed on without him. 

He's full and starting to nod his head sleepily when the wind suddenly picks up out of nowhere. It clears the wispy clouds and sends a shiver up his spine. It takes him a moment to realise the source of the sudden gale is a dragon, winding its way serenely through the ravine. The moonlight reflects brightly from scales the blue of thick glacier ice, and a head crowned with great spikes of hoarfrost. The dragon's impossible length takes several moments to pass by, leaving behind thick frost patterns curling over the walls and the surface of the water. Link's fire is guttering when he finally tears his gaze from the sky, and he hurries to rekindle it before it goes out completely.

~

Link leaves Epona in a secluded dell just below the start of the ascent; she'll be safe enough here while he climbs, and there's plenty of forage. He ties a blanket over her and strokes her nose.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he says, and she huffs his hair away from his face. "I won't leave you stranded again."

Then he shoulders his pack and makes his way across the snowfield. He's beginning to accept that he might not ever recover his full memory - might never be that person again, but - he can at least see how it all ended. He owes his past self, and Zelda, that much.

Snow lies in deep drifts to the side, and more thinly over the path, that winds up the mountain like the dragon which guards it. It dampens all sounds, and Link progresses slowly upward in eerie silence, other than the crunching of his own boots on snow and his own laboured breathing. Occasionally a snow-white hare darts away at his approach, or a pigeon flaps noisily up into the snow-laden trees. 

He has to stop to rest after a few hours, brushing snow off a tree stump to sit down heavily. His breath crystallises in the air in great puffs, and his toes and the tip of his nose are both getting numb. His ankle is beginning to ache again. He flexes his fingers in his gloves to try get the blood flowing, and realises he's forgotten to take his warming elixir like an idiot. He's digging through his pack with clumsy hands looking for it when he's suddenly bowled over into the snow. 

A snarling wolf in a thick white coat is standing heavily on his chest with its front paws. It lunges in to try bite his neck, and Link shields himself with his arms, trying to shove it off him. It clamps its jaws down on his arm and Link shouts in surprise and pain, smashing it on the nose with his other hand balled into a fist. It retreats, and he scrambles to his feet to draw his sword and shield. In the trees, he can see more wolves lurking, the light shining off their eyes in the gloom. He has a sudden, vivid image of how the scene looks to them, rich scent trails overlaid on the blanket of white and grey, all leading to him. He can almost hear the faint sounds of movement in the bushes; the slow soft drip of snow from the branches. Can almost feel the crunch of snow beneath his paws - he shakes the image away, and focuses on reality once more.

Wolves are smart and coordinated, in many ways harder to deal with in groups than bokoblins. But they're also driven purely by hunger; if he can scare them off, they'll seek easier targets. The wolf lunges at him again, and its brethren begin to circle out of their cover to surround him. He slams the wolf aside with his shield, and turns in a slashing arc to keep the others at bay. Sword held out, he slowly moves over to his pack and kicks his torch free. One wolf tries another rush, and he sends it yelping back with a slash at its nose.

Time to put Daruk's gift to use. Link drops to one knee, holding the amulet tight in one hand and channelling all his thoughts into his need for his friend. An orange shimmer appears in mid-air just as a third wolf lunges, and it cringes back in confusion. Link quickly grabs his flint and tinder, striking sparks against the torch until it catches, tongues of flame licking along the oil-wrapped cloth. As the shield drops he sweeps the torch towards the wolves, which hesitate and then turn tail back into the trees.

He's watching to make sure they're actually gone when a blast of ice hits him in the neck and shoulders, and he whirls round to see the commotion has attracted an ice elemental. Like its cousin the poe, the hood of its tattered robe hides unknowable darkness. From the shadowed depths comes a burst of laughter that sounds like icicles breaking on stone. Link lets out a noise of frustration. He's cold and tired and he's still nowhere near the end of his hike. He dodges another spray of frost then jams the torch upright in the snow and switches to his bow, clumsily pulling a fire arrow from his quiver. He holds it against the torch until it ignites, and aims right for the creature's hidden, mocking face. It disappears in a puff of steam on impact, the fire arrow thudding into the tree trunk behind and fizzling out when a small drift of snow plops down to land on it.

Link douses the torch in a snowdrift and gathers his scattered belongings. The flask is thankfully still intact, and he downs a gulp, letting out a sigh of relief at the flood of warmth it sends through his chest all the way down to his fingers and toes. Then he digs out the smaller flask of antiseptic and tips some into the wound on his arm, hissing at the sting. Finally, he ties the wound with a bandage, yanking on one end with his teeth to tighten it. He flexes, checking he still has the full range of movement. Good enough. He slings his pack back over his shoulders and sets off once more.

~

Finally, he reaches the staircase. There are nine hundred and ninety-nine steps to the Spring of Wisdom. The first and only time Link climbed this mountain, Zelda had attempted to count them; she'd lost her place several times, and finally given up somewhere in the six hundreds. Of all the Goddess Springs, it's by far the hardest to reach.

Power is the most easily-accessible; there in the open for any and all who wish to seize it. Courage is tucked in the depths of the jungle; hard to locate, but the way to it is easy to traverse. Wisdom is hard-won; a constant uphill trudge in harsh conditions with little sign of progress. There are several false peaks, where you think you're almost there - but when you crest you see yet more mountain stretching into the sky ahead of you. It isn't until the very end when you can finally see the summit.

... In hindsight, it should have been obvious from the beginning that Zelda was going to have the hardest time of all of them.

At the top, frost-rimed columns stand sentinel around a frigid pool, over which Hylia clasps her hands together in eternal prayer. The warming potion is still working its magic on his fingers and toes, but Link avoids wading through the water regardless; he's not sure whatever magic protected Zelda from its lethal chill will extend to him. Instead, he edges his way round and brushes the snow from a patch of flagstones, on which to build a fire. It's nearly dusk by the time any memory stirs. As the light reaches that in-between phase, where everything is harder to make out than you think it ought to be, he sees ghostly echoes of himself and Zelda entering the hollow, both dressed in fine Rito-made gear. Zelda is speaking.

~

_"Do you think this will be the place, then? It's the only Spring left for me to pray at, and there is a common narrative in the histories of the Royal Family being most closely associated with Nayru of all the Goddesses." She sounds so hopeful; so desperate for him to be able to tell her that everything will be alright._

_Past-Link shrugs one shoulder. "You have to try. We've come all this way."_

_Zelda's face shutters, and she turns to walk away. Link reaches out to grab her arm, gently halts her._

_"That's not - I didn't meant it like that, I'm sorry."_

_"What did you mean, then?" Zelda asks, still looking a little hurt. She tries to pull away, and Link lets her arm slide through his grasp until he has a loose hold on her wrist. If she tugged, she could easily break free, but she holds position and waits for him to speak._

_"I meant to say, I don't think the issue is how or where or how often you're praying. If prayer was really the key, the Goddesses could hear you from anywhere."_

_Zelda still looks deflated, and the Link in the memory huffs out a breath, a rueful expression on his face. "I'm still saying this all wrong; things were so much easier when I just didn't say anything... If devotion was enough, you've more than proved yourself - a thousand times over. No one could ask more from you than you've been giving. What I mean is - I don't think your father is right to keep pushing you down a path that isn't showing any signs of progress. So either this works, and that's the end of it, or it doesn't, and when we get back he can't argue when we tell him that things need to change."_

_"We?" A tentative smile hovers at the edge of Zelda's expression._

_Memory-Link shifts until he's facing her more head-on again, and grasps both of her hands with his._

_"It's something I've been thinking about, recently. When I was knighted, I swore an oath to serve the King, and he's the one who assigned me to protect you, but - what if that includes protecting you from him? He was wrong to scold you, wrong to treat you so badly for so long. Your work with the researchers _is_ helping; he should let you put your talents to use."_

_This is easily the most words Link has ever recalled his past self saying at once, and he tries not to breathe too hard lest he disturb the memory. Zelda's expression has opened like a flower to the sun, and the Link in the memory carries on, encouraged._

_"My loyalty lies with _you_ , and if that means standing up to my King, I'll do it. I shouldn't have stayed silent on the bridge. I won't make that mistake again. What's he going to do, execute me? Good luck finding someone else to wield the sword." _

_Zelda laughs in surprise, and both Links smile to see her looking happy again. Link and Zelda are standing close now, in the memory; their breath fogging the air between them. The moment stretches as they watch one another, still holding hands, and Link bizarrely feels like an interloper. Then Past-Link steps back; Zelda's hands fall to her sides._

_"I'll get the fire going," he says, looking over her shoulder, at the floor - anywhere but her face. "You should get changed."_

They fade out, and Link wants to shout in frustration. Was that all there was to see? It's so tantalisingly close to an answer, and yet so far. He looks to Hylia's blank visage. 

"Some help you are," he snipes at her. The statue continues to gaze smugly out over the snow. 

~

Link cooks, and eats, and then settles against the wall of the shrine to watch the clouds swirl in the darkening sky. He'd intended to stay at the summit overnight regardless, to avoid descending in the dark, but he's doubly determined to stay now in case any more of that memory returns. A few stray snowflakes float on the breeze, but the threat of fresh snowfall remains just a threat. As night falls in earnest, bright bands of colour dance in sinuous waves through the heavens - like restless spirits, or a portal to the sacred realm.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when gigantic eyes appear in the gloom at the peak. Then the lumpy surface of the summit peels away from the rock, and he realises the guardian of the spring has been here the entire time, curled around the mountain like a lizard on a branch. Up close, it doesn't look quite right. There's a sickly sort of pallor to the scales on its head, and its eyes look almost cloudy. Can dragons get ill? It stretches out to unwind itself, and Link catches a glimpse of a gash beneath one elbow that looks putrid. Foul sludge leaks slowly out of it, splattering drops which hiss on contact with the snow.

The dragon looks around, and sniffs him. Then it lays its enormous head down in the snow, trailing its injured limb down into the bowl. Does it - want him to help? Link carefully steps nearer, wary of both being eaten and of stepping in the little pools of noxious slime. This close, the dragon radiates a fierce chill, and he tucks his hands in his armpits and shivers while he peers in to look at the wound. There's something jammed in there, and the flesh around it looks puffy and irritated. He almost reaches for it, then hesitates and grabs his groundsheet from his pack to wrap carefully around the broken wood. 

It takes a surprising amount of force to yank the wood free, and the dragon twitches minutely at his first unsuccessful tug, but thankfully neither bites him nor breathes on him; he's pretty sure the warming elixir wouldn't stop its breath turning him into an icicle. He pulls again, harder, and finally the wood comes free, releasing a gush of noxious fluid. Link jumps back but his hands and arms are splashed, and he rubs snow over hastily to stop it eating through his clothes. The wooden shaft is attached to a weapon head so big it could only have been wielded by a lynel or a hinox - or something even worse? - and is corroded with age. It must have been stuck in there a long time. 

The dragon is still gazing at him expectantly, and Link peers into the wound once more to make sure it's clear of debris. It still looks nasty, and he decides to try clean it out with water from the spring. Once he's finished the dragon makes a rumbling noise deep in its chest, and swipes the very tip of its tail across the surface of the pond, which sends golden ripples racing across it. Behind the statue, he can see the glow of another shrine light up in the gloom. Then the dragon surges over the snow to leap off the mountainside, and winds its way down into the valley once more.

~

He wakes in the early hours of the morning, some sixth sense kicking in to alert him to something unexpected. Nearby, there's a soft golden glow that resolves as he watches into the form of Zelda. More memory? No - this Zelda is semi-transparent like the memories often are, but her prayer gown is ragged and filthy, and - she's looking right at him. A dream?

Zelda comes closer, and he sits up in his bedroll. She kneels on the flagstones next to him.

"Am I dreaming?" he asks.

She smiles. "If you were, how could you trust my answer?"

"How are you here?" he asks. He resists the urge to try touch her; both because he knows it wouldn't work, and because he's still unsure if it would be welcome.

"It's not unlike projecting my voice to you. It wasn't terribly hard to work out how, once I realised that if I could send my words to you, I could likely send my visage. But I don't think I can hold it very long. It takes a lot of effort, and I'm already so tired."

Link winces. "I'm really sorry about rousing Ganon by coming to the Castle. I didn't mean - "

She cuts him off. "It's alright. Ganon has had bursts of trying to escape before, and I've fought him down each time. He should be quiet for some time, now, and I will need to rest as well. I just - wanted to see, with my own eyes, that you were alright."

His heart skips, and nothing he could say right now feels adequate. He should - apologise more; ask about those final days, about the plan, about the state of her physical self. He should tell her how he feels; how he always felt - but no words make it out of his mouth. Zelda is already looking faint.

"I'm sorry to leave you without guidance again," she says, "but please don't feel like you need to rush and risk yourself unnecessarily. You're still not immortal."

Link manages a wry smile at her. "I promise to take more care, from now on. We're all working on freeing you - the Sheikah and I; the Zora have said they'll help. I'm sure the Gorons will too. We're coming, Zelda."

Zelda nods, and as quickly as she appeared, is gone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on my outline, we're about halfway there. And finally, our first real conversation between Link and Zelda!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are love :)


	13. The Star Festival

Impa side-eyes Link for slinking back into town only hours before the star festival, but she adopts a cheerful tone as she explains the idea to him. 

"We write wishes for the upcoming year on folded paper, and hang them from the trees in the guardian spirit's grove. You know, for the first time in many years, I have a good feeling about my wish."

Link must be looking unenthused because Impa huffs a laugh. "And of course, there is good food and rice wine afterwards," she adds.

As dusk falls, the villagers gather carrying lanterns and the square comes alive with the quiet buzz of conversation until Impa signals them to start making their way up the hill to the spirit's grove. Link walks between Steen and Olkin, discussing hunting tactics with them, until things start getting acrimonious between the two farmers. He drops back to walk with Claree, Lasli and Paya instead. Further ahead, he can see Granté chatting with Rola.

"Oh, the fireflies are so beautiful tonight!" Lasli sighs. "I've missed my evening walks so much. I'm going to wish for all the stupid Yiga to disappear so it's safe to go out again."

"I'm going to wish for the skill to create the finest clothes the world has ever seen!" Claree declares with a fist clenched to the heavens. "What about you, Paya?"

Paya flicks her gaze towards Link. "I - um - I'd rather not say," she stammers, blushing fiercely. Behind them, Koko and Cottla are tugging at Dorian's sleeves.

"I'm going to wish for mummy to come back," Cottla says. Dorian looks pained, and cups her head gently. Koko goes very quiet; Paya and Lasli both smile sadly.

"What will you wish for, Link?" Paya asks softly to break the silence.

Link's reasonably sure everyone in their small group knows who he really is, and he's sure they expect him to wish for an end to Ganon, but: who is he wishing _to_ , exactly? It's been made very clear that Ganon is his problem to solve, much as he might like to foist it off on a higher power. Would it be selfish to wish for the rest of his memory back? He shrugs, and nobody presses the issue. As they reach the top of the hill, his eyes widen at the beauty of the dell. Bluebells carpet the forest floor in a dense spread of violet, with luminescent moths and fairies flitting between the trees. At the centre of the clearing is a small pond, crystal clear and sparkling in the moonlight.

The villagers disperse to tie their charms onto branches, and Link rubs his thumb over the still-blank paper in his pocket. As he's thinking, he notices a delicate, pale white flower at the base of a nearby tree. A name floats to the top of his subconscious. _Silent Princess._ It's beautiful. He crouches to inspect it more closely; almost reaches out to pluck it, but then more of the memory surfaces. _Endangered; it fails to thrive in captivity. All we can hope is the species will be strong enough to survive on its own._

A new certainty settles into his heart. Worrying about the past - about how things stood between him and Zelda - is pointless. He could die fighting the Calamity. Zelda could die; could already _be_ dead, tethered to life only until her task is complete. It's time to stop chasing some past version of himself and focus on being the best he can be now. He'll build up the friendships he's made, cultivate allies, and with their help, he will defeat Ganon. And afterwards - well. If he and Zelda both survive, they can see where they stand then.

He lets the petals of the flower run through his careful grasp and pulls out the slate. The list of broken images glows up at him, taunting, and he drags his fingers across the screen in a dramatic sweep to delete them all. Then he carefully composes a shot of the little cluster of flowers. [Silent Princess], he tags it. After a moment's thought he captures a shot of the pool too, which he tags [Kakariko guardian spring]. He pulls out his charcoal stick, and carefully inscribes a wish of strength for Princess Zelda onto the strip of paper. _Hold strong. Endure_ , he wills her as he ties it to a branch. Then he follows the others down the hill, where the real party will begin and where there's a spit-roast boar waiting with Link's name all over it.

~

"So you couldn't remember anything?" Paya asks, staring wide-eyed at him. A little liquor seems to have rendered her capable of speaking to him without blushing, for which Link's grateful. Granté went the other way after a few drinks, and is avidly watching everyone and everything in cheerful silence.

"You were like, a total blank slate?" Lasli gasps, sitting next to her. Rola, a little further down, snores gently, head pillowed on her arms.

"Sort of... I still knew things," he explains. "What a Rito is, which plants are poisonous. I could fight and hunt, and tie my shoes. But I didn't remember anyone I knew before. Not the other Champions, or my parents, or any friends I had. I had no memories of my childhood. I've only got back fragments, really. I don't remember anything from our fight against Ganon." 

"I'm sure more of it will come back, with time," Paya says gently.

Dorian slips into the seat next to him, back from putting his daughters to bed. "Even if your full memories do not return, Master Link, the Sheikah will be here for you. Whatever you wish to do, we will support you in friendship."

Link lifts his cup in Dorian's direction. "I'll drink to that."

~

He loses an arm-wrestling contest with Cado to raucous cheering then goes back for second helpings of the hog roast, and of rice wine. He loses his shirt somewhere; Paya's stammer returns. Impa has long since gone to bed. Steen is currently attempting to explain something to him about carrots being vital to the Hylian Champion's training technique, but between the general noise and his overindulging, Link can't really make much of it out. He pats the man on the shoulder with a vague nod and extricates himself. A little distance away he can see Dorian sitting quietly at the edge of the celebration, looking sombre. 

"Everything okay?" he asks softly, sitting next to him.

"Just wishing my wife was here," Dorian says.

"You lost her recently?" Link asks. Cottla's still quite young, after all.

Dorian nods. "Last year. I'm lost without her. I could never hope to match her kindness or gentleness with the girls."

"She sounds wonderful, but I think you're selling yourself short," Link says. "You seem like a great father to me."

"She was wonderful. Everyone loved her, and I will never forgive the Yiga for taking her from me."

"Yiga?" Link asks, frowning. "Lasli mentioned them earlier. I feel like I should know the name. Who are they?"

"A great shame upon our clan," Dorian says, clenching his fist. "Misguided Sheikah, who sided with the enemy and seek to aid the Calamity's return. They hide in the desert like cowards and attack from the shadows."

Link is baffled that anyone would align themselves with such obvious evil, but he senses pressing Dorian on the issue right now isn't a good idea. He'll ask Impa about it later.

~

Link wakes to shouting and smoke. He rolls out of bed, stumbling free of the covers, and throws open the shutters to look out over the village. Halfway up the hill, a house is on fire, thick smoke pouring out from under the thatch. Grabbing his sword and yanking his shirt over his head, he clatters down the stairs at a jog. His head only throbs lightly at the sudden motion, and he has a moment of appreciation for Paya, who brought him a pitcher of water last night before they both retired.

Outside, bleary-eyed villagers are hurriedly forming a bucket-chain to extinguish the flames, most still in their nightwear. Link grabs Lasli's elbow as she runs past.

"Is anyone inside?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "The girls stay with us when Dorian is on night duty. Nanna is with them now."

Link feels himself relax slightly. There's a flicker of motion in the corner of his vision, and he turns just in time to see a black-clad figure disappear into the trees at the top of the hill, pursued by another figure in Sheikah cream. He hesitates, looking back at the still-burning building, but the gathered crowd seems to have that situation in hand. He loosens his sword in his scabbard and goes after the unknown pair.

He emerges quietly into the dell, sticking close to the shadows. The charms tied by the Sheikah flutter gently in the branches overhead; under his feet, the grass is dew-damp. Dorian has his sword drawn and is facing off against an intruder in skintight red-and-black, wearing a mask painted with the Sheikah eye inverted. The figure cocks its head, blithely unconcerned. 

"Time's up, Dorian," she announces. "We have tolerated your weakness long enough. No more; give us what we want or I will end you right here. What will your precious girls do then?"

Dorian brings his sword tip up. "I will not aid you," he snarls, "and I should like to see you try." He rushes forwards, sweeping at the woman with his blade. It doesn't connect; instead, with a faint _pop_ the woman disappears into thin air. Dorian stumbles and swings round to search for her. A peal of laughter comes from the trees and she steps forward into the moonlight again, drawing her own viciously curved blade.

"You're pathetic," she taunts. "Old and past it. I should put you out of your misery."

Dorian squares off again, and Link moves forwards to join the fight, but before he reaches them, there's the _zip_ of a bowstring and an arrow sprouts from her throat. The yiga woman drops to her knees, gurgling, and then collapses face-first to the floor with a pool of blood seeping slowly out around her.

Cado steps from the trees, another arrow held across his bow, but the yiga is still. Dorian looks to Cado, shocked. Cado merely nods at him.

"We should take her down to the village. Impa will want to call a meeting."

~

Link leans against one of the columns in the Chief's house as he watches the inner circle of Sheikah filter in. He can feel the ridges of the carvings digging into his shoulder blades, grounding him to the here-and-now. The lamplight flickers over the dim interior of the hall. Granté is lurking at the edges too, similarly unsure of his welcome.

"The Yiga have become a threat we can no longer ignore," Impa intones gravely once everyone else is seated on the cushions around her. "Everything is rising to a crescendo once more; as Ganon surges, so too will his cult. They wish to neutralise our support for the Hylian Princess and her Champion. We must cut them off at the knees, before they can cut our throat."

"That shifty character who was lurking around a few weeks ago, the painter; he must have been a spy!" Rola declares. "I knew he was suspicious!"

Impa holds a hand up for silence. "Pikango is no more a Yiga than I. He was born here, but moved away at a young age to travel with his father. I can vouch for him."

Dorian looks ten years older since yesterday, haggard and worn as he leans forward to say "This is my fault. I brought their wrath upon us. I will do whatever it takes to put this right."

Impa frowns, but it's Cado who speaks first. "You are not to blame, my friend," he says to his fellow guardsman. "The Yiga's misguided anger would turn against us with or without your presence."

"It is my doing," Dorian repeats helplessly. "I was approached by agents of the Yiga almost two moons ago, seeking information on Master Link and on the Sheikah's preparations for the upcoming battle with Ganon. They threatened to - to kill my daughters, as they did my wife." Gasps echo as Dorian continues, "I refused them, of course, but tonight must have been their final attempt to persuade me."

"We're lucky they didn't know the girls were elsewhere this evening," Claree says, one hand held to her mouth in horror. 

Dorian shakes his head. "They would not have made so basic a mistake. They know my girls are all I live for; were they to actually follow through on their threat, I would have no reason to cooperate. This was a warning."

Impa purses her lips. "I think it's time we dealt more proactively with this threat. I hate to ask this of you, Dorian, but would you be willing to undertake a mission against them?"

"But Koko and Cottla -" Paya gasps.

Dorian cuts her off. "If I could swear to stay always by their side I would do so, but they will never be safe while the Yiga remain unchallenged. The best thing I can do for them is to deal with this... lingering echo of my past mistakes."

"We can continue to look after them while you're gone," Nanna offers. Lasli nods her agreement, and Dorian looks grateful.

Paya bites her lip. "I wish to go with Dorian," she directs at Impa. 

"It will be too dangerous," Dorian objects. "I can't let you take such a risk on my behalf."

Link thinks this might be the first time he's ever seen Paya angry. She surges to her feet, arms held stiffly and fists clenched as she fixes Dorian with a look. "On your behalf?" she snaps. "If I wish to risk myself to ensure the safety of the Sheikah - of Hyrule - that is my business and no one else's! You are not the only one to have lost loved ones to the Yiga, Dorian."

Dorian looks shamed. "I apologise, Paya. Your parents would surely not wish to see you die to the same malevolent force that killed them both... but I understand your determination."

Impa speaks up. "I will not deny you, Paya, however it may pain me. But I would ask that you take at least one other with you, for some extra measure of safety."

"I can go," Link volunteers. This seems like the perfect opportunity to put his new resolution into practice, and involve himself in the affairs of the world beyond his own immediate goals. If he expects the Sheikah to aid him, he should be willing to do the same in return.

Impa claps her hands together. "Wonderful. Cado, Rola - I know it may be awkward, but can the two of you work on refreshing the combat training of the villagers? We should be prepared for a larger assault."

Rola nods, eyes shining with conviction. Cado looks uncomfortable, but brings his hand up to his chest in a salute. "As you wish."

~

It's almost dawn by the time the meeting disperses. Link considers going to lie back down for a few more hours, the soft mattress calling him like a siren song. Instead, he heads back outside - past the burned-out husk of Dorian's house standing stark against the hillside - and treks up the hill to the spirit grove for the third time in one day. Now he's alone, he can see woodland spirits bounding along in his peripheral vision, keeping pace with his steps. They squeak and vanish with a puff of blue when he accidentally strays too close, only to reappear across the clearing, owlish faces watching him with curiosity.

It's quiet when he gets to the clearing, the faint chirruping of nocturnal insects the only sound. Above, the sky is pre-dawn grey, but within the dell it's still dark and cool, lit primarily by the glow of the various spirits and plants. Link pulls out from his pocket the rice dumpling he'd saved for later, just as he pulls half-formed folklore from the well of his memory.

"I brought a gift," he calls, unfolding the oak leaves from around the dessert and setting it down at the edge of the pool. "I'd like to speak to you."

For a long moment, the only answer is silence. Then a sudden rush of wind whips the long grasses of the clearing into a frenzy, kicking up loose leaves from the forest floor and sending ripples racing across the surface of the pool. Then a woman - no, a creature wearing the _appearance_ of a woman - is suddenly there, perched on one of the rocks lining the water's edge with the dumpling held in her hand.

"Well met, little traveller," she calls. "I acknowledge your gift." 

Her eyes are the same blue as her pond; her skin the colour of fresh peach; her face framed by flax-gold hair. All plausible hues, for a Hylian - and yet. The leafy branches curving like horns behind her ears are a more obvious clue to her nature, of course. That, and her outfit. It's more foliage than clothing, vines curling idly down her forearms and broad leaves wrapping around her midriff. Her voice sounds normal enough when Link focuses on it - pleasantly warm, and slightly sultry - but underneath, it sounds like wind through trees; water over rocks.

She polishes the dumpling off in two bites, and licks her fingers fussily afterwards. "Adequate," she pronounces. "Though I have little enough room to complain, these days. The villagers maintain this grove well enough, but the young ones forget the old ways. No one brings me treats any more." She bats her eyelashes at him in mock-despair. "What's a girl to do?"

"I'll remind them," Link says, feeling bemused. This isn't going how he'd envisioned, so far.

"I'd appreciate that. You're looking lonesome, dear. Where's your shadow?"

"Do you mean the Princess?"

The fairy laughs, and it sounds like the burble of a mountain brook. "If anything, you're her shadow, surely?" She laughs again at his blush. "Relax, I'm only teasing. Last time I met you, one of ours travelled with you. Shall I call another sprite to accompany you? Or you could stay here with me, if you prefer - I'm _very_ good company."

He shudders. "I'm fine, thank you. On both fronts." Her offer of a companion has stirred faint memories - _hey, listen!_ echoes at the reaches of his mind. 

"Your loss, sweetling. What can I do for you then?"

Link hesitates. "I just wanted to see whether the tales were true, that this place is protected. I need to leave soon, and a Yiga managed to come here tonight, to burn down one of the houses. I'm worried for them, with Ganon rising once more."

The fairy curls her lip at him. "You're treading a fine line, elf-boy," she rebukes, and now the undertone of her voice is more like snake's hiss. Link is suddenly certain that one of the other skins she could wear would involve far more teeth than this. For a second, her eyes are solid, vibrant green.

"I meant no disrespect," he clarifies, hands out in a placating gesture. "The villagers didn't seem sure whether there was any truth to the legend, that's all."

She huffs. "If you don't think I take my duty to this place seriously, I suggest you go see how the rest of this sorry land is faring these days. My villagers have peace, and pure water; bountiful harvests and plentiful game. I keep monsters from their woods, and the blight from their fields. Doing any more than that is beyond me while my sisters are so weakened."

"Sisters?"

"There are four of us. Well... five, technically, but Malanya is... odd. But the others have been hit hard by falling belief, this last century. If you can help restore us to our true power, perhaps we can be of more use."

Another task is hardly what Link wanted, coming here. He sighs. "I'll do what I can. Thank you for speaking with me."

"Mm-hm. For you, sweet thing, any time. Do you know whether the villagers still make that bracken jelly? You should tell them to bring me some - that's my favourite." 

With a giggle like the trilling call of a songbird, she dives into the pool and is gone; its surface is glass-smooth once more.

~

Dawn is breaking as Link finally flops down onto his borrowed bed again. He means to close his eyes, get a few hours more sleep, but he's too awake now. He pulls out the slate to browse through the images from last night instead. The picture of the Champions Paya had found had sparked an idea in him, and he'd passed the slate around at the festival to let people capture the bright moments of the evening.

There's one of his arm wrestling contest with Cado, and then a few more of the other challengers who followed him. Some beautifully-composed shots of the ornamental carp in the pond, helpfully tagged - that will be Paya. One of Paya and Lasli posing playfully with their fingers held up by their temples. Rola asleep on the table, Claree threading stalks of grass into her hair. Himself shirtless and flexing, which he doesn't remember; he covers his eyes in embarrassment but doesn't delete it. The whole idea of this, documenting the new Hyrule, is to have something positive to show Zelda if... _when_ she returns. 

It already feels like the festivities depicted here happened an age ago. He supposes he should be grateful Ganon and his minions allowed even one evening of fun, but the real world has definitively made it to Kakariko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The star festival is based on a [real Japanese festival!](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanabata) It felt like a good fit for the Sheikah, and a festival felt like a good way to get to know some of the residents of the village a bit better. I honestly did try to research the timeline/detail of Dorian's past, but turned up very little, so if this contradicts anything feel free to drop me a note and I will correct.
> 
> Also: more fae fairies! I just really like the idea of them being more elemental type forces.


	14. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link puts his resolution into action, and gets to know his new friends and allies better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dialogue-heavy one this time, in which everyone prepares for the upcoming Yiga arc.

Link awakes to late morning sun shining in through the window and muffled conversation floating through his closed door. As he emerges onto the landing there's a black-and-red figure silhouetted in the open door opposite, and his hand is on his sword hilt before he registers that it's Paya, her earnest expression incongruous with the sinister style of the outfit. Claree, who he hadn't even noticed there, tuts at her for moving and puts another pin in the fabric. Link takes his hand off his pommel and nods at the pair as he passes.

Downstairs, Impa is conferring with Dorian. Link takes the chair opposite, plucking an apple from the fruit bowl.

"You're going to try infiltration then?" he asks. "Paya certainly looks the part, but will that be enough? How close-knit are the Yiga?"

"Close enough to realise they don't know her if she speaks," Dorian says with a frown. "But from a distance it should suffice."

"I've asked Claree to create additional disguises, based on the uniform we recovered," Impa adds. "We have little enough idea what will await you when you find the Yiga stronghold; it pays to be as prepared as we can."

Link nods, chewing thoughtfully. "Anything I can help with?"

Impa blinks up at him, considering. "Actually, there is."

~

Purah is the only one in the lab when he arrives in Hateno. It takes him a moment to put his finger on what's different since his last visit. Ah - she's a little taller; her face a touch more slender. If Link had to guess, he'd put her at about nine years old in physical age now. She pays him no mind as he enters, bent almost double over a machine core she's stripping down for parts. 

"Is your experiment wearing off?" he asks her, picking up one of the tools on the table to fiddle with. 

"I've been working on undoing it. More gradually this time, since overshooting in this direction could have rather unpleasant consequences. Pass me those clippers, would you?" she asks, face still buried in the mess of wiring. "No, the other ones."

Link does, and after a few more minutes she straightens up, cracking her back out as if she was still over a hundred. She looks him over. "I see you've recovered from your misadventure. That's good; Jerrin was worried."

That's... surprisingly diplomatic. "You're not going to ask how I injured myself?" 

She blinks at him. "Would the specifics be of relevance to any of the projects I'm working on?"

"I doubt it." 

"Then no. I assume you're here to add to that workload?" She plants her hands on her hips and cocks her head at him, which is largely ineffective on her still-childish frame. Link may be short for a Hylian, but she barely comes up to his chin.

"You told me to come back after I'd seen Robbie," he reminds her. "But also yes, I am. Impa's orders."

"Oh, yes - the cryonis improvements. I've tweaked it so it will work on things other than liquids. You won't get a solid freeze on anything else, but it should still be enough to slow down a monster I'd think. Pop your slate in the guidance stone and I'll upload the patch. What does my sister want?"

Link hands over the dead Yiga's belt. "She wants to know if you can replicate this."

Purah plants herself back on her chair (the legs, he notices, are resting on stacks of books to bring her up to the table top) and sweeps her previous project away to put the belt under her magnifying glass. She pokes around for a while, prising the back off the buckle with a knife to examine the mechanism inside.

"Hmm. It's modified Sheikah tech. I can clone the software but you'd be better taking it to Robbie to get the actual duplicates made, his fabricator would make much shorter work of it than I could by hand." She pauses. "Don't tell him that."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Make yourself useful and pour me a new cup of coffee on your way out. Come back tomorrow."

~

Link's about to head back to Kakariko when he remembers the house. He doubles back to the market pick up some more things - a water jug, candles, a few eggs and some slices of bacon - and heads up the hill.

Bolson and his crew have done a good job on the place. There's a sturdy new door and windows, all well-fitted to keep out draughts. The old wooden table in the kitchen has been sanded down and revarnished. The range and floor have been swept, and a woven rug placed down. There's a small sleeping loft overlooking the main room, and underneath that is a deep wooden tub, tucked around the corner for privacy. Overall, it's a pretty standard one-room cottage: basic but homely. Still, he's pretty sure the old Link never owned a house. Link-the-Champion with his magic sword had gone straight from the family estate to military barracks, and from there to an assigned room close to Princess Zelda's. Score one for new Link.

He heads back outside. Around back there's a lean-to for tools and firewood, and a stable and outhouse further away from the house - the latter thoughtfully pre-stocked with last year's farming almanac. Link doesn't think this parcel of land is particularly similar to the estate on which he was born, but it's apparently enough to stir up little snippets of his early childhood as he wanders. Splashing with his father in the pond, tailing his mother as she gathered herbs to make a sweet-smelling sachet for his pillow. Watching over Aryll as she slept, cocooned in blankets, in the shade of a tree. 

It's starting to drizzle as he heads into the foothills. There he finds a little shrine, of the sort dotted all over Hyrule. Squat, rounded statues of a man and a woman shelter beneath a tree, worn smooth with time and covered in moss. Zelda, he recalls, had a theory that they represent spirits of nature, perhaps even of the trees under which they are invariably found. For some reason, that thought springs a vivid recollection on him. He sits heavily down under the tree as it washes over him, while the rain patters on the branches above.

~

_Would you have chosen a different path?_

 _He runs through his routine with the sword, her question playing in his mind on repeat. He's tempted to argue the entire premise. What does 'choice' even mean, in the context of Fate? But that's not a helpful answer. He can give her bare honesty, if she's risked enough pride to ask. He sheaths the Master Sword and sits next to her beneath the tree, looking out over the rain-swept hills._

_"I don't think I could have chosen to be anything else. I didn't - the sword didn't _choose_ me," he says, stumbling to find words for something he's only experienced as a bone-deep feeling. "I was meant to find it. Even if I'd been born into a sailor's family, my path would have led there somehow. Or - maybe I couldn't have been born into a sailor's family. Maybe that's all part of it, the same way you had to be a daughter of the royal family."_

_Zelda had clearly given up on receiving an answer, and looks towards him in surprise. "Did the voice in the sword tell you that? You never answered before, when I asked if you could hear it."_

_He makes a vague noise of disagreement. "It doesn't _speak_ , exactly. But when I drew it the first time, I could sense how _right_ it felt, for us to be reunited. It wanted to be drawn, and I can only think of one reason why it would need someone to wield it again here and now."_

_"Then you believe the prophecy? We truly are to be the generation that must repel him once more?"_

_"Don't you? Your father must, if he's engaged the full efforts of the Sheikah on reactivating the guardians and the Divine Beasts."_

_"I... it is one thing to read the signs, but if what you say is true - if the sword allows itself to be drawn only when it is needed to fight the beast ..." she trails off, looking away from him, hands clenched in her lap._

_He can guess what thoughts consume her. If this is destiny, why has _her_ power not awakened yet? Will she not need to train with it, as he had with the sword? He wishes he could help; wishes he could somehow transfer into her his utter certainty that the power _will_ come. But Zelda is a scientist, and she won't be swayed by the conviction of others in things she cannot prove herself. This is a battle she must wage alone - all he can do is stay by her side as she does so. _

_Eventually, Zelda makes a conscious effort to pull herself out of her thoughts. "The sword can only know about lives where you claim it," she points out. "There could be lives where you aren't a soldier at all."_

_"Hmm. Perhaps I was a woodsman. Or a goatherd?"_

_Zelda smiles, bright and radiant. "Perhaps you were a chef in a past life! It would certainly explain your love of food!"_

_He laughs, pleased to see her in better spirits. "Speaking of food... we may as well eat if we're going to be stuck here a while."_

After the memory ends he runs back to the house through the now-pounding rain, and closes the door behind him just as the first roll of thunder sounds ominously in the distance. He gets a fire going, and sits cross-legged in his underwear sipping barley tea, his sleeping bag tucked around him like a cloak while his clothes steam gently on the chair backs to dry out. When he turns in, the drumming of the rain on the roof eases him to a deep, even sleep. The image of the Champions sits safely on the bedside cabinet.

~

In the morning he gets an early training session in at the nearby shrine. This one seems designed to test his balance and reflexes, and he's pleased by the fluidity of movement returning to him now his ankle has healed. He's almost back to the house when a loud rustling catches his attention. The source of the noise turns out to be a portly Hylian, rummaging around in the long grass. He sits down heavily as Link approaches, wheezing slightly, with his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

"Can I help you?" Link asks, mildly amused. He hadn't made any effort to be stealthy, but the young man startles all the same.

"Oh - sorry man, I didn't think anyone lived here," he pants.

"I only bought it recently. What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for crickets," the man says, as though that answers anything at all. Link raises an eyebrow at him, and he elaborates: "I asked Prima, at the inn, what gift she wanted. And she told me she wanted a hundred crickets. So..." he waves a hand vaguely at the overgrown border of Link's plot.

"I see," Link replies, fighting to keep his face straight. "How many have you caught so far?"

The man slumps down with a sigh. "None. They're really fast!"

A week ago, Link would have bid the poor guy a good day and been on his way, but he thinks of the promise he made to himself in the fairy's grove. This guy's problems might not be on the scale of Ganon, but he clearly needs a friendly ear and Link has time.

"I was just about to cook some breakfast," he says. "Would you like some?"

He fries up bacon and eggs for them both with sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window. Rich smoke curls up to his nostrils; the gentle sizzle of the bacon cooking in the pan is faintly hypnotic. It's the most domestic thing he can remember doing, in this lifetime at least. The man - Manny, rather - looks around with interest at the house.

"It's good someone's finally bought this place," he says. "We all used to think there were ghosts here, when we were kids. You know - vengeful shades, of people killed by the Calamity." He waves his arms as he says 'vengeful shades'.

Link nods. He's quite certain, in fact, that at least one vengeful shade killed by the Calamity is watching. But he carries his ghosts with him; when he moves on again, it's not like Mipha or Daruk will be lingering here. "Well I've not run into any ghost problems so far," he says, sliding a plate over to his guest. "Let's hope it stays that way."

As they eat, he quizzes Manny about Prima, wincing inwardly at the guy's responses. "You know what I think? I think you need a fresh start" he says, pointing his fork at Manny for emphasis. "To focus on yourself for a while, rather than trying to be what you think Prima wants."

Manny looks doubtful. "Like how, though?"

"You're a watchman, you said? There's a new town being built out in Akkala, they'll definitely have work for you."

"Is that Bolson's new project? I'll think about it. And thanks for breakfast, man, it was great."

~

Link stops in at the future site of Tarrey Town first rather than go straight to Robbie, since he's been reminded of it. Plus, it's less than a mile walk from the closest shrine, and doing too many hops back to back with the slate makes his head feel weird. He's surprised to see the site completely transformed. The trees that crowded the promontory have all been felled, and are neatly stacked beyond the shoreline near the tents (and there are a lot more of those now, Link notices). A handful of rugged-looking Hylians are preparing a log for sawing as he passes, led by a man with a bushy moustache and eyes like chips of blue ice.

Down at the shoreline, Link spots Bazz and Gaddison spear-fishing. Rivan emerges from a dive as he watches; the Brigade's all here, then. And - is that Kodah and Kayden's daughter? He'd only met her briefly in the domain, but Finley's a distinctive silhouette; in that awkward phase of Zora adolescence where she's adult-shaped but still a head or two shorter than the others. A young Hylian man sits on the sand nearby, scrubbing clams.

The main cluster of activity seems to be around the large boulders half-embedded in the muddy ground. Bolson and a Goron Link doesn't recognise are discussing something while Karson and Hudson secure a rope around a particularly big rock. Further away, half a dozen other Gorons are hauling smaller ones out by hand. Link spots a tiny goron perched on top of the rope-lashed boulder - that has to be Pelison, so the hard-hatted foreman must be the brother, Greyson. 

"I thought you only hired people called 'son'?" Link asks Bolson as he approaches, gesturing towards the Zora.

"They're subcontractors!" Pelison pipes up, and Bolson smiles fondly at him, reaching out with a finger to tip Pelison's hard hat down over his eyes. 

"That's right! Swanson, Greyson and Gaddison are all direct employees of Bolson and Company, and they've brought their own crews in so my hiring rules don't apply. I'm just too excited about this development! This is going to be the crowning achievement of my glittering career!" Bolson's got his hands tucked up under his chin and his eyes quite literally shine with enthusiasm. Link had always thought that was just a figure of speech.

He lets Bolson take him on a tour of the site, pointing out where houses and streets will be, and the area marked out for the central square. Link takes pictures of everything, then goes to catch up with Gaddison and her 'crew'.

"You took the job, then?" he asks, and they all come over to greet him.

"I thought it was time for a change, and these guys wouldn't let me go all alone," Gaddison replies, leaning on her spear. "How's your thing going?"

Link waggles his hand in the gesture for _so-so_. "I stopped Vah Rudania from causing an eruption, so I've got that going for me. I'm... working on the rest."

Bazz claps him hard on the back. "Well if you ever need the Big Bad Bazz Brigade, you've only got to shout and we'll be there!"

"Thanks guys," Link smiles. "Though from speaking to Bolson, should I be calling you the Big Bad Gads Brigade now?"

Rivan, always the quietest of the group, chuckles softly at that. "I suppose Gads _is_ technically the Boss now."

"As things always should have been," Gaddison says archly, elbowing Bazz playfully. The darker zora pushes her away by the face, and soon they're play-fighting in the shallows.

"They're such children, honestly," Finley remarks to Link with a roll of her eyes. "Come meet my boyfriend! I've told him all about how you saved the Domain from Vah Ruta."

~

When Finley's boyfriend, Sason, announces he's going mushroom hunting, Link offers to help. They head into the nearby copse with wicker baskets tucked under their arms.

"So how'd the two of you meet?" he asks as they pick their way up the wooded slope. "You don't see many Zora-Hylian relationships." He wonders whether that would be any different now, had he and Mipha married.

"We were penpals first," Sason says. 

"Penpals?"

"A-huh. It's quite romantic, really. I found a letter in a bottle she'd written when she was feeling frustrated and alone, and it just really _resonated_ with me, you know?"

Link nods, peering around a fallen log to add a few sunshrooms to his basket.

"So I sent a reply back with a merchant I knew traded up in the Domain. Told her to ask around for anyone who'd sent a message in a bottle. Finley wrote back again, and that was it. We were both smitten."

"How did you end up here with Bolson?"

"I knew we were meant to be together, so I saved up enough to leave my job, packed up and left for the Domain. When we heard some other Zora were coming to help build a new town here, it was just perfect. We could build a new life here, together." 

Link smiles. Time will tell whether this odd couple makes the distance, but it's encouraging to see how Bolson's big idea is inspiring hope. Hope is certainly something Link feels ~~he~~ Hyrule has been missing for a long time now. He pushes his way through a thicket in search of more mushrooms, and stops short at the sight in front of him. 

It's half-choked by overgrowth, but the little pond he's discovered is unquestionably a Fairy spring. By the foot of the trees standing sentinel around it, Link can see a blue-white spray of Silent Princess, and a faint glimmer of fairy lights hover nearby. Well. This was easier than he was expecting, when the Kakariko fairy had asked him to aid her less fortunate sisters.

Sason pokes his head through the gap. "Found something?"

"If you wanted a sign you all picked the right spot for a village, this is it," Link says, gesturing to the pond. "The spirit that lives here will keep your home in peace and health for as long as you tend to its grove, and offer it tribute. Food or coins, I mean. Not - anything else." He coughs, blushing lightly.

There's not much they can do right now, with the others all waiting on them for food, but Link pulls as much of the brush away from the water as he can before they leave. As they make their way back towards camp, Sason looks over to Link.

"Hey, can I tell you a secret?"

Link quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Don't tell Bolson, but - my name's not really Sa _son_ , it's Sa _san_. I think he misheard me and I haven't wanted to correct him. It seems weirdly important to him, for some reason."

Link cackles. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."


	15. Auld Acquaintance

Link spends the rest of the day with the Tarrey Town builders, given that preparations back in Kakariko won't be complete for a few days yet. Bolson is positively delighted by the news of Link's discovery, and makes clearing the fairy grove a priority.

"Who am I to spurn such a propitious omen?" he asks. "We shall become beasts of gardening, for a day!"

By the end everyone is sweaty and filthy, and covered in scratches from the brambles that grew thick over the clearing floor. But the pond is free of the choking vegetation, with a clear approach through the wood and sunlight breaking through the canopy.

"Hard work," Karson pants, slumping down against a tree. "You sure there's a spirit here?"

Hudson passes Link a waterskin, and he uses a little of the water to clean some of the grime off his hands and face, where he'd rubbed sweat off his forehead. Then he sets some of the dried plums from his satchel on the side of the pond. 

"I'm sure," he says simply. Then he calls to the empty air. "If you're listening, we've brought you an offering."

This time the wind is little more than a lazy murmur, gently rustling the trees. Autumn had descended all at once while Link slept off his near-drowning, and their leaves are a riot of red, orange and brown. The surface of the pond ripples slightly, and the great fairy hoists herself half out of the water onto her elbows. Her hair and eyes are the rich purple of wild blackberries, and the vines curling over every inch of her skin are deep green tinged with brown at the edges. She blinks at them, then yawns, stretches, and rests her face on the muddy ground. After a second there's the unmistakeable sound of snoring.

"Um - miss?" Karson asks, and she jolts back awake.

"Yes! What? Oh! New people, hiiiii~" she trills, waving. Her gaze scans over the crowd, and she frowns slightly when she spots Link. "Mostly new people," she amends. " _Man_ , how long has it _been_? It feels like I slept _for-ev-er_."

"We couldn't say, I'm afraid," Bolson says. "My compatriots and I are building a new town just down the slope from here, and Link here discovered your grove quite by accident. Obviously, it must have been fate that guided us to this spot! I am Bolson, and this is Karson, Hudson, Swanson, and Sason. To whom do we have the pleasure of speaking?"

The fairy gives a purring sort of laugh. "Oh, aren't you just delightful. You can call me Mija, if you like. I think we're going to get along just swimmingly."

~

The builders don't have much in the way of luxuries, but they roast up fresh-caught fish and break out a cask of dark, malty beer to toast their new guardian. Swanson teaches everyone some traditional Hebran drinking songs, which all seem to be either about how cold and terrible living in Hebra is, or about how love is fleeting and life is suffering. Karson, in a surprising display of talent, accompanies him with a wooden flute. Link joins in the singing for the most part, but during one especially poignant song he closes his eyes to let the music wash over him, fingertips twitching in the movements for an ocarina.

In the morning he warps to the Akkala tech lab, where Jerrin answers the door. 

"Link! It's good to see you again," she smiles. "You're looking better." 

"I feel better, thanks," he says, stepping inside.

"Are you here for the prototype? We just finished production yesterday," Robbie calls over from the workbench.

"I'm glad to hear that, but no. There was a yiga attack on Kakariko a few days ago," Link tells them, pulling the belt from his pack. "No one was hurt, but it's put the wind up Impa, so we're going to head to the desert; try to neutralise the threat before they can make a real strike. She wants some duplicates of this made, if you have the parts. Purah's put some more information on the slate from her investigation of it."

Jerrin peruses Purah's notes, nodding along. "The ancient oven should be able to handle this," she confirms. "Though I'm not sure how many we have the materials for right now."

Robbie pulls a crate of assorted Guardian bits and pieces out from under the workbench, and dumps the contents out onto the already overflowing surface. The three of them scour through the pile for the necessary components, resulting in a paltry selection of parts arranged on a clear bit of tabletop.

"Hm. I might be able to get two belts out of this, if I'm careful," Jerrin says, poking through the much smaller pile. "I'll load up the blueprint anyway, and see how we go. We can do some more targeted scavenging after you've left, if Impa wants more."

"I'm sure even one would be useful," Link reassures her. "Any advantage we can gain is helpful, if we're going in blind."

Robbie nudges Link with his elbow while she works. "Want to go test the prototype out while we wait?"

Link grins back at him. "What kind of question is that? I thought you'd met me before."

Around the back of the lighthouse-cum-laboratory, Robbie hands Link a flat disc about the size of a saucer, with a handle on one side. Then he goes to fiddle with a rusty Guardian head, broken down the middle and half-embedded in the dirt. 

"What exactly am I meant to be doing with this?" Link calls out to him.

Robbie sticks his head out, goggles down over his eyes. "Just stand where you are, and hold the shield as you usually would!"

"... shield?" This thing is tiny.

There's a pulse of light over the surface of the Guardian, and the tell-tale wave of static washes over Link, sending all the hairs on his arm to attention. It's as if time itself slows. He reacts on instinct, dropping to one knee and bringing the pathetically small disc up in the hope of reflecting the beam. A fraction of a heartbeat later, the laser beam hits. An ethereal shield shimmers into existence, stretching wide and high enough to cover Link's entire body. Crackles of red light course over it like lightning, and then fizzle out. The shield fades with it, the central disc merely a piece of metal once more. Link clenches his fist to avoid rubbing it against his suddenly-aching breastbone; breathes out through his nose to quell the shaking he can feel coming on. He inhales deeply. At least this time he hadn't completely lost himself to the sense-memory of the ash swamp. 

"Robbie, _what the hell_!" he yells, gesticulating wildly with the disc.

Robbie sticks his head back out of the Guardian husk, goggles back on top of his head. "What? I already tested it, it's perfectly safe. Besides, I once saw you deflect a Guardian's beam with a pot lid not much bigger than that."

That's... not a memory Link has recovered, and he stops for a second to consider the insanity of that statement. _Why_ had he been deflecting lasers with pot lids? He'll have to ask for that story... Wait. He was in the middle of a perfectly good rant.

"That's not the point! _Warn_ me before you shoot lasers at me!" 

"Fine, next time I'll warn you," Robbie says with a scoff, heading back inside.

"Good, thank you. Wait - next time? Robbie!"

They come back inside just in time to see the Ancient Oven whirr to life with a pulse of blue light - and then belch out a cloud of dark smoke with a loud bang.

"Oh dear," Jerrin says, hand to her mouth.

Robbie pushes his goggles over his eyes again and dives in to peer at the fabricator's innards, muttering to himself as he goes. "No permanent damage, but I'll need to swap the fuses out," he declares. "And we'll need to go get another pilot light. Link, if you wouldn't mind...?"

~

Robbie marks the location of the blue flame on the slate's map, and Link heads out into the early afternoon sun with a specially-designed lantern hanging from his belt to carry it back. This close to the cliffs it's always windy; right now it's coming from the north, bringing in a light spray from the sea crashing against the rocks so far below. He can see lizalfos prowling the sands below the high tide line, looking for crabs to skewer on their spears.

As the crow flies the flame isn't far from the tech lab, but there's only one bridge over the gorge and it's at the end of a long, winding detour. Link picks his way down the paths, eyes and ears open for trouble. So far, all he's come across is grazing deer that bound away spring-light at his approach. He plucks late season plums off the trees as he goes, their sweet juice running sticky down his chin as he bites into the soft flesh.

Across the bridge, he starts to see signs of monster activity. Splay-toed prints in the mud, branches torn from the trees at shoulder height. Moblins, then. A few minutes later, he hears them. At least two, and a chorus of higher-pitched bokoblins too. They're crowded around a campfire, tearing strips of meat from what looks to be a wild horse, roasting in large chunks on skewers around the edge. Link rolls a bomb down into their midst, and follows it up with an explosive arrow that sends several of the bokos flying.

The remaining bokos scramble to their feet, and the two moblins look around for the source of the attack. One lobs a spear at Link, which he dodges; the other _picks up a bokoblin_ and flings it towards Link. It misses, but the furry little missile bounds to its feet apparently unharmed and rushes towards him. Link blocks its flailing strikes, slashing diagonally into its throat, and it drops to the dirt. The more fortunate bokoblins at the ruined campfire have found bows, and send a volley of crude arrows Link's way. He raises his shield to catch one with a dull _tock_ , and winces as the other clips his bicep on its way past. 

The two moblins have closed the gap now, one armed with a spear and one a club. He weaves between them, dodging a spear thrust that lands deep in the other moblin's thigh. It roars its annoyance, and Link leaves them to squabble while he goes to deal with the archers. Another rolled bomb has them diving for cover, and Link runs in its wake to stab down into one's back. The other is back on its feet, but Link's ready with a lateral slash across the throat. 

The moblins have remembered he's the actual problem here and are chasing him down again, but Link sends a bomb arrow right into one's face, and it topples to the ground in a mess of blood and bone. The other looks a bit horrified at that but it's too late to run by now, Link's got a second arrow headed its way and that too finds its mark. When the smoke has cleared, Link looks down at his filthy clothes, and the chaos surrounding him like the petals of a flower stretching outward from its centre. He wipes the sword off on the edge of the moblin's kilt. He can see a flicker of blue light over the crest of the hill, and trudges up towards it.

~

Back at the lab again he scrubs off as best he can with a bucket of water outside, hurrying before it goes from 'lukewarm' to 'chilly'. Then he sips tea and strips apart more scrap while Robbie and Jerrin see to the fabricator. The two of them seem happy enough to work in companionable silence, and Link hums softly to himself. Perhaps after a certain number of years of marriage, you just... run out of things to say. It's very different to the frosty silence he'd initially endured with Zelda. Now he knows that his old self had finally opened up to her, he can't imagine wasting any opportunity to talk to her and to hear her voice. The next time he sees her, he's going to be more prepared.

He's trying to prise a particularly stubborn component out of a Guardian Scout claw when he feels the slate on his hip buzzing. There's a message emblazoned across its screen.

[WHAT'S UP, LOSERS? GUESS WHO WORKED OUT HOW TO DO DEVICE-TO-DEVICE COMMS? YOU ARE EXTREMELY WELCOME.]

Robbie, who had presumably received the same message, barks out a laugh. "What would we do without Purah? I don't think it would even have occurred to me to check whether the slates were linked to one another in some way. Here, let me see if I can send a reply."

There's a pleasant _ding_ and a new message appears below the first on Link's slate.

[THIS WIL B V USEFUL PURAH GD WORK ROBBIE]

After a brief pause Purah responds again.

[YOU'RE A DISGRACE TO THE NAME OF SCIENCE, OLD MAN! USE PROPER PUNCTUATION! ⋆★PURAH★⋆]

Jerrin smiles into her hand. "You know, the Director puts up a very convincing front, but once you get to know her she's actually very sweet."

~

Back in Kakariko, Link sits down with Dorian, Impa and Paya to discuss the mission over bowls of rice topped with grilled meat and vegetables. Granté's there too, since he's staying with Impa while he's in Kakariko.

"Purah's discovery of the message-sending facilities in the slate is certainly a welcome boon," Impa says. "It would set my heart at ease to know how you're all getting on without having to wait weeks or months for your return."

"We'll keep you updated," Paya promises. 

"My main concern is how we approach without tipping the Yiga off," Link says, looking at the map spread between them on the table. "There aren't many ways into the desert; it wouldn't be hard to watch them all."

There are only two main routes into the desert, in fact, and Link traversed both in his previous life. Agaat pass, the major link between Hebra and Gerudo, snakes over the mountains to the north to spill out into the Karusa valley at the southern end. It's a treacherous route at certain times of year, but nonetheless well-used by trade caravans. And then Koukot canyon cuts through the mesas to the east; a dried-up riverbed that, if Zelda is to be believed, once fed into the sea which covered the entire Gerudo region at the time. There are other, less obvious ways in, of course - a tough hike over Mount Granaj to the south, for instance - but none you could bring an army through, which has certainly played a major part in the Gerudo desert being unconquered since time immemorial. 

"Where is the Yiga hideout?" Paya asks, peering at the dense contour lines of the Gerudo highlands.

Dorian runs a finger over them, tracing a line not marked on the map. "I left the clan as a young man on goat-tracks through the North-Eastern extent of the mountains, but that was over a decade ago. To be honest, I'm not sure whether I could find the entrance again. The mountains are vast, and not rife with landmarks."

Impa frowns. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. You can always try hunt them out the old fashioned way."

"If it's not a rude question, Dorian, what made you leave?" Link asks, scooping up another blob of rice with his chopsticks.

"I was born into the Yiga," Dorian replies. "Both of my parents were clansmen. I was sent on a mission - they wished to place an inside man with the Sheikah in Kakariko. I travelled here, claiming to be the son of two Sheikah that had escaped the Calamity, who had recently died. The village should by all rights have been suspicious, but they welcomed me with open arms. Impa especially."

Impa smiles at him, and Dorian continues. "For a long time I told myself I was carrying out my mission. I squirrelled away information into a notebook I kept hidden - the key players of the village, their strengths and weaknesses. The most well-concealed and most well-defended approaches. But eventually I realised that the Sheikah had become my real family. I burned the notebook, and hoped that I could simply leave the past behind me.

"For some years I thought I had gotten away with it. I had a job as a guard, and I spent every day working to protect this place I'd come to call home. I fell in love with Risa, and we had two beautiful children. I should have known it couldn't last."

"What happened?" Granté asks. He's leaning forward slightly, engrossed in Dorian's story.

"The Yiga noticed that my updates, which had never been especially timely or thorough, had stopped entirely. They do not tolerate deserters - they sent assassins for Risa, to remind me that as much as I might wish to forget them, they had not forgotten me." He's quiet for a long time, and Link thinks he's done talking about it, but eventually he continues. "I wish they had just killed me instead. I suspect they only let me live because they thought I could be leaned on in future. It would have been hard for them to plant a new mole once my identity had been revealed to Impa, as well."

Paya puts a hand on Dorian's arm. "That's all in the past, now. We have an opportunity to level the scales."

Dorian nods, and returns his attention to the maps. "I think we would be best served to go via Koukot Canyon... We can stop over in Kara Kara to see whether there are any contacts to be made there, and a cover story of travelling merchants would be more believable from that direction. See here, where the road splits..."

~

In the morning, Link finds three Sheikah tacking up in the village's modest stable, rather than the two he expected.

"I'm coming with you," Granté says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. Link shrugs one-shouldered; as far as he's concerned, one more body can only be a help. He's learned his lesson from the Castle; doing everything alone is neither advisable nor fun. Granté, clearly expecting more opposition, deflates slightly. Link wonders whether it was Impa or Dorian he had to fight to convince. Or Paya, perhaps? Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her surreptitiously watching.

In the square, Koko and Cottla are waiting to say goodbye, wrangled by Lasli and Nanna. The girls nearly bowl Link over, flinging themselves into his arms as they beg him to come back and play and cook with them again soon. He hugs them in close, and realizes that this is the first embrace he can remember in this lifetime. All too soon they pull back, running first to Paya and then to Dorian, leaving Link feeling slightly bereft.

Once they're mounted up, Link surveys his little squad. Granté sits eagerly on his black gelding, still not quite settled down from being given permission to come. Dorian has a firm seat on a sturdy-looking roan, his expression grim. Paya sits astride a sweet-looking dapple grey mare, and is exuding determination. This is, technically, Dorian's mission, but all three Sheikah look to Link. He's happy enough to take point for now; he can talk to Dorian about chain of command later. With a nod at the trio, he wheels Epona round to take the north road at a trot.

The air is still heavy with moisture from last night's rainstorm, the rich scent of loam all round as they make their way through the wooded back slopes. Wet branches drag across Link's cheeks and their horses' hooves kick up the leaf litter until they emerge into the long wet grass. It sparkles in the bright sunlight cutting through the lingering clouds. Link nudges Epona to a ground-eating gallop down the slope, the dull thud of hooves behind telling him the others are keeping pace. So long as he doesn't turn to look, it's almost like being back in the army, surrounded by the sounds and smells of horses and people. 

Whatever waits for them in the desert, he's glad to have a capable group at his back to face it with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, we will actually get to the desert eventually...!


	16. The Road Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly more action-heavy one, to offset a few chapters of largely conversations. Things start to step up for Link and friends.

They swing round to meet the great road as it emerges through the Duelling Peaks, and head west like an arrow from there. There had been disagreement about the route, while they'd sat planning - Dorian and Impa keen to stick to lesser roads, Paya and Link pointing out that the Yiga will either spot them or not as they pass through Koukot canyon, so why spend the extra time trudging through the back country? They'll shave at least two days off the journey that way, hugging the edge of the Plateau until they can break south for the canyon entrance. In the end, speed had won out over caution.

Link feels himself slipping back into solider mode with every minute they spend on the road; alternating who rides up front and who covers their back, rotating watches to ensure his troops are well-rested, assigning duties when they stop to make camp. Before he'd become Link the Hylian Champion - back when he was merely Link, the Prodigiously Talented Son of Commander Arn - Link had been part of mixed units with Sheikah fairly often, on scouting missions, monster hunts, guarding the excavation sites and so forth. He'd always enjoyed it. The Sheikah packed light and moved fast, never complained about the conditions, and they cooked better food than the Hylian troops. He's pleased to find the experience of riding with this little squad to be much the same. Granté falls back easily into habits from their first trip together. Dorian is an old hand, and Link isn't concerned about him at all for the journey. Once they get to the desert, and he's forced to confront his one-time compatriots, on whom he seeks revenge... Link has plenty of worry to spare for that part of the mission.

Paya is clearly unused to life on the road, but she takes it in stride with a determined expression on her face. He suspects she's pushing herself hard not to be a burden on the more seasoned travellers in the group. She reminds him so strongly of Impa in many ways, yet is so different in others. He'd spent a great many hours in Impa's steadfast company, before being assigned to Princess Zelda. And for all that Zelda had resented him for the apparent ease of his role, Impa truly was the platonic ideal of a warrior - competent, level-headed, and quick-witted. The two of them had shared a bond as strong as sinew; soldiers surrounded by twittering nobles and scatterbrained scientists. The awkwardness of their current relationship is less the sudden age gap between them, and more Impa's transition to wise leader. It feels silly to mourn that loss, when there are so many people gone from his new life entirely, but his heart refuses to listen to his head on the matter.

~

Several days in - when they're almost to the fork where the road splits around the ruins of the Coliseum - Link rides ahead to scout a bit while the others stop to make camp. He's not intending to go very far; just a quick loop around the hills to see if there's any significant monster activity. He finds it in spades. At the edge of his sweep there's the hulking form of a lynel prowling through the long grass, swiping its cleaver through the air idly. It's the first one Link's seen in the future, and it's worryingly close to the road. He's about to turn and inform the others when some sixth sense has it whipping round to stare straight at him. It grins, vicious teeth bared, and charges. Link digs his heels into Epona's sides and swings her round, urging her into a gallop down the other side of the ridge. This is incredibly bad, he's alone and too far to call for help, and he's lost the element of surprise already. Of all the bad luck...

The lynel comes leaping over the crest, ploughing huge furrows into the muddy earth as it lands on the other side. Its eyes are fixed right on him, its hooves kicking up great tufts of earth as it closes the distance. It swings again, and Link veers Epona sideways. Then he turns in the saddle and nocks an explosive arrow from his quiver, raising himself up in the stirrups to draw. Epona, who is surely a gift from the goddesses themselves, keeps to a steady, straight course. The lynel ducks as Link's arrow flies past, and he quickly looses another at its feet. This one has it rearing up, and it falls to the ground. He swings Epona back round again and leaps off as she passes the downed monster - as helpful as her speed is he wants manoeuvrability more, and he won't risk getting her killed. She stops just within sight.

The lynel staggers to its feet, giant hooves stamping great divots in the turf. It lashes out at him, and he jumps back; it seamlessly twists the cleaver into a backswing, and Link has to leap clear over the blade to avoid being cut off at the knees. This isn't sustainable. Time to put Purah's claims to the test. After the next desperate roll out of range of that terrifying swing, he unhooks the slate and drags his finger against the screen in the swirl that means _cryonis_. The lynel is hit with an arctic blast of air that leaves ice crystals shimmering in its fur. It roars in confusion, staggering as its muscles seize. Link hits it again, and the great cleaver slips from its numb fingers. Link rushes in, slashing at its legs as he passes, and it thumps down onto its knees. He grabs a handful of mane, swinging up onto its back as it lurches back to its feet. It reaches around to try grab him, and he clings tightly with one arm and both legs, avoiding its flailing hands. 

He pulls the dagger from his boot with his free hand, and jams it straight into the jugular. Great spurts of hot blood splatter across his face and neck, gushing over his hand and arm with every pump of its heart. The lynel flails around, twisting to finally throw him off. He rolls with the landing, already up and running as it tries to charge him. Between the hamstring and the severed throat it never makes it; the lynel thumps heavily to the floor and lies splayed on its side, rear legs kicking weakly as the fire dies in its eyes and its blood soaks the dirt around deep red-brown. Link keeps one hand on his pommel, but eventually it stills. He stands for a few moments more, pulse still racing, watching to make sure it's definitely dead.

Epona's nostrils flare at the earthy-copper smell of the blood soaking into his sleeves and trousers, and she refuses to let him mount up. After a few fruitless minutes trying to coax her, he grabs the reins and walks back to the others.

~

Dorian surges to his feet at Link's blood-soaked entrance, looking alarmed. Paya gasps.

"That is - wow." Granté says, eyes wide. "That is really a lot of blood. Another hinox?"

"Lynel," Link grunts as he wipes ineffectively at his face and arms with a cloth. All it's really doing is smearing the blood around. Paya digs in the packs for a change of clothes to throw at him, and he catches them with his clean(er) hand. "None of it's mine. I'm just going to go - dunk in that pond we saw. Maybe... burn these clothes. Ugh."

He does the best he can with the cold water, but the Sheikah still sit upwind of him for dinner - a stew topped up with chunks of a rabbit that Dorian hunted while Link was busy avoiding being chopped into small pieces by homicidal centaurs.

As they eat Dorian regales them with stories from his early days in Kakariko, tales that have Paya giggling and asking more questions. Link aches for the sort of camaraderie and community spirit the Sheikah have; the sort he once shared with his fellow knights and then, fleetingly, with the other Champions. Later still, Dorian sits at the edge of camp, ready to take first watch. Paya and Granté are quiet, sitting together with their heads held close together in conversation. Link's pleased to see Paya coming out of her shell; she seems to have more or less gotten over her crush on him. Perhaps meeting the real him put her off; what person can ever match up to their legend even before any issues with memory? But he suspects Granté has something to do with it too. Paya is leaning towards the younger Sheikah like a flower to the sun, and in return he's looking at her with soft warmth.

"You reckon there's something building there?" he asks Dorian, nodding his head back towards the pair as he plonks down on the grass next to him.

Dorian smiles wistfully. "If there is, I wish them all the blessings of the Goddess. Our time with those we love can be cut so cruelly short; let them have their comfort while they can."

~

A little further down the road the next morning, they come across a pair of travellers huddled under a tree near a broken cart. One of the wheels is knocked clean off the axle, and what's left of the harnesses hangs loose in the mud. From the tracks, their bolted horses seem long gone.

"Ho, friends," Dorian calls to them. "You seem to be in quite some trouble, can we be of any assistance?"

One of the two - the man, with a mop of shaggy brown hair and an outfit muddied from the crash - waves in welcome. "We'd be very grateful for your help."

Link hops lightly down from the saddle, and he and Granté inspect the cart. Other than the missing wheel everything seems in reasonably good order.

"We should be able to get this back on between us," Granté pronounces. "The wheel itself seems in good enough shape. Did you hit a pothole?"

The woman nods. Her black hair hangs in two long braids down over her shoulders, and a severe fringe frames her forehead. "Horses got spooked by a lynel, and we hit a hole as they bolted."

"Assuming there was only one in the area, the lynel has been taken care of," Link says. He looks to Dorian. "If you two want to help with the wheel, Paya and I can go try find the horses?" The Sheikah nods, and Link leads Paya along the trail of hoof prints and trampled grass. It doesn't take them very long to track down the missing animals; they haven't fled very far, and are nibbling at a patch of meadowsweet with the remains of their harnesses trailing in the mud behind them. Paya dismounts to cautiously approach the closest, a chestnut brown with three white socks. It lets her close enough to stroke its nose and neck, and she leads it back to her own horse. Link walks Epona over to the other horse, a piebald, that is eyeing him warily. 

As he gets close the horse's nostrils flare - it must have picked up the lingering copper tang from Link's clothes, because it turns and gallops away. Link sighs and spurs Epona into a run to chase it down. They pull even quickly - Epona really is the swiftest horse Link has ever owned - and he makes a grab for the dangling rein. The horse shakes its head to snap the leather out of his grasp, and peels off to the right. This time, Link gets his feet under him on the saddle as they pull level. He waits a beat to gauge the distance and the rhythm of its motion, unconsciously adjusting for Epona's own rise and fall with each stride. At the - there! - right moment he leaps, coiled-spring-tension unwinding. He slams over the horse's back, and it's harder than he thought it would be to hold on, with no saddle, but he manages to swing his legs around to sit astride the panicked beast. 

With the reins in his hands and his thighs clamped tight he slowly works against its movements, until it's only sluggishly trying to dislodge him, and then not at all. It slows to a walk, and then stops. He strokes along its neck for a few minutes longer until he's sure it's calm, and then slides off to walk it back over to Epona.

~

Back at the cart Dorian and Granté have managed to get the wheel back on between them, and Dorian is hammering the peg back through the hub with a rock. Granté is helping the pair get their scattered belongings back into the cart. Link and Paya get the horses hooked back up, tying the severed reins back together. The end is cut clean through, Link notices - how had that happened, if the horses had simply torn away in their panic?

"Much obliged t'ya," the woman says. "I'm Wanda, that there's Ram, who's well named on account of he's as stubborn as one."

Ram rolls his eyes at her. "Pfft, woman, you're twice as stubborn and you know it. Y'all from Kakariko, friends?" 

There hadn't been much point trying to pass the three Sheikah off as anything else, with their distinctive looks, but Link's a little uneasy at the question all the same. Prejudice can run deep, after all. The others nod, looking a little uncomfortable too. Thankfully these travellers are either more enlightened than most or grateful enough to set aside their preconceptions, because Ram shakes them all by the hand. He bends to kiss Paya's instead, and she pulls it back quickly when he lets go. 

"What you all doing out this way?" he asks.

"We're traders," Granté says, giving their agreed-on cover story. "I'm Clint, and these are Riordan, Anya, and Ravio over there is the Hylian. We're headed for the Gerudo region, to see if there's a market for traditional Sheikah remedies and crafts there."

"That's where we're headed too!" Wanda exclaims. "Why don't we all go together a ways?"

Ram nods sagely at this. "Strength in numbers, y'know, what with all the monsters about these days."

~

Wanda and Ram are genial companions, chatting constantly about everything and nothing to whichever of the group is currently riding alongside the cart. Link largely takes point, wary for more lynels - especially as they pass under the shadow of the Coliseum. The hulking building looms high above the road, and Link can see familiar dark ichor creeping up its crumbling walls. He's sure there must be a nest of monsters in there. Behind him, the conversation flows on unaffected by the gloomy atmosphere of their surroundings.

"What's his deal?" Wanda asks. "Quiet fella ain't he? He mute or somethin'?"

"Who, L-Ravio? He talks, just not much," Paya says, stumbling slightly over Link's assumed name. Ravio had been a page a year or two below Link, with an uncanny resemblance to him - so strong, in fact, that more than one person had made jokes about Arn straying (though no one made the mistake of joking about it _twice_ , at least in Link's hearing). As far as Link's aware, it was just a coincidence - the two of them had compared their family trees back to great-great-grandparents and found nothing linking them by blood. 

He turns to look over his shoulder at the women, the dark flash of his dyed hair in his peripheral vision still startling. Paya gives a half-shrug and a grimace.

"Odd to see a Hylian travelling with Sheikah," Ram comments. "Thought y'all kept t' yourselves mostly."

Dorian makes a _hmm_ sound. "Ravio is along partly for extra protection, and partly in case we run into people who won't deal directly with our kind."

"I see," Ram says. "Well ain't it just sad, that you need to be ready for that sort o' thing."

~

They stop for the night still uncomfortably close to the Coliseum for Link's liking, but there's not much for it. The horses are tired, and there won't be enough light left to make camp if they carry on much longer. There's a traveller's shelter by the roadside, where Ram and Wanda lay their bedrolls. The two of them make dinner from their supplies; a warming risotto that they augment with meat from the pigeon that Link shot down earlier.

"Where do you hail from then, Rav?" Ram asks, sitting down next to Link. "Ain't no Hylians from Kakariko that I ever heard of."

"Hateno," Link replies, shovelling more rice into his mouth. It's the closest to the truth he can manage these days, and he's familiar enough with the current layout that he won't be tripped up if he meets anyone who knows it well.

"I've never been. Me, I'm from Deya Village, over Faron way," he says. "You know it?"

Link nods. Deya was Pipit's home town, and he'd been there with his friend several times to visit, or on patrols. He and Zelda had stopped there briefly too, during her search for ancient artefacts. "I know it well," he says. "Nice place. Do they still do that casserole at the inn, with the duck and pork and the white beans?"

"Sure do," Ram says, and leans back against the shelter with his arms resting on his belly. "They sure do."

~

Link wakes in the quiet hours of the morning, with the sky a deep black and mostly covered by clouds. The fire is burned low a little distance away, throwing only a small amount of heat and light over the campsite. He lies still for a moment, listening and trying to work out what woke him. He filters out the lazy crackle of the fire, the rustle of the grass in the light breeze, the faint chirrup of insects. There's a soft sliding sound, and a muffled jingle, followed by a rummaging sort of noise - someone going through a pack? He cracks his eyes just enough to see a figure in the dim firelight, hunched over Link's own pack. Whoever it is pulls out the Sheikah slate, holding it up - so someone else can see?

Link subtly shifts so his gaze takes in the other side of the camp, where another figure nods their head. He inches his fingers towards his pommel, movement slow as molasses and breathing kept carefully even, eyes mostly closed. Once his fingers are wrapped around it he shifts his weight, ready to leap up at a moment's notice. The second of the figures is creeping towards him now, a curved sickle drawn and glinting in the firelight. A flash of it reflects onto their face, and he realises with a jolt that it's Wanda. As she reaches striking distance he surges upwards, drawing his sword and slashing out in one movement that scores a deep cut across her forearm, and absolute chaos descends.

The screech of shock and pain that Wanda lets out wakes the others and pulls Paya back where she'd been sitting at the edge of the camp, looking outward on watch. Dorian takes in the scene with a roar of rage and launches himself at Ram, who blinks out in surprise. Granté has grabbed his bow and sends an arrow after him, but in the dark of the trees it's impossible to tell if it hit or not. Wanda has switched the sickle to her other hand, and is clutching the injured one against her chest, blood rapidly soaking into her outfit. Link waits for her to come at him, but at the last minute he sees a flash reflected in her blade. He drops and rolls instead, and Ram's swing connects with empty air. As he gets up, Link kicks hot embers from the fire towards the man, making him cringe backwards.

Granté has swapped to his dagger, and he and Dorian close in on Ram together. Link looks around to see where Wanda has gone, and ducks sideways instinctively as he hears a _pop_ behind him, where she must have jumped in. He turns, just in time to see Paya grab her by the neck and stab her in the side. She blinks again, but drops to her knees as she reappears, braced on her one good hand. Link kicks it out from under her, sending her sprawling to the floor. Then he puts one knee on her back and grabs her by the hair. She glares furiously at him as well as she's able from the angle, and then turns to spit on the floor. 

"Your days are numbered, Champion. You will not stop His return."

Dorian has come over. "You will tell us where we can find an entrance to the stronghold," he commands her.

She laughs, slurring slightly as she replies. "I will tell you nothing, traitor. Your days are also numbered."

Between the two wounds she'd suffered, the blood loss catches up with her, and she slumps in Link's grasp. He lets go of her hair and sits back on his heels.

Dorian curses. "The other fought to the last also. And we are no closer to tracking this den of filth down than before."

Link sighs. "We don't know whether they managed to send any kind of message. We have to assume the Yiga know we're coming."

Dorian nods solemnly. Paya and Granté hover behind him nervously. Link suspects the reality of their mission is finally sinking in, but it's too late to back out now. He'll have to keep an eye on both of them.

"I'll take the rest of the night," he says. "Let's get these bodies out of the way, and then you should all try get some more rest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've stolen functionality from stasis here and given it to cryonis, because it felt marginally less immersion-breaking to freeze something to a halt than to have a magic time-stopping device xD
> 
> Unfortunately work has picked up and I'm all out of buffer now, so I may need to drop to a bi-weekly update schedule for a while. I'll do my best to have something for next week, but if not, see you all in two weeks time!


	17. Parting of the Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally reach the desert! Thank you all for your patience. I do hope to go back to a weekly schedule at some point when things quieten down again. <3

The morning dawns grey and drizzling, and they go about their tasks in gloomy silence. Paya, especially, is quiet; Link is just beginning to wonder whether he should go talk to her when Granté goes over, sitting close next to her as they eat their bowls of porridge.

"I should send grandmother an update," she says finally. She's been sending brief check-ins since they left Kakariko, largely just noting how far they've travelled. This message is going to need quite a bit more detail. 

"We should decide our course of action, first," Dorian says. "Our plan of sneaking in undetected is almost certainly no longer viable."

Link agrees, "The Yiga will notice when their operatives don't return, even if they didn't manage to send off a message. They'll be on high alert."

"What if we convince them we're on their side?" Granté suggests. "Make them take us into the stronghold, and then take out the leader from within?"

"I don't think they would believe that Dorian is still loyal," Paya says, frowning. "And if they know who I am, they won't believe it of me either."

"Perhaps not," Dorian says. "But we could probably make them believe that I was taking you all to the stronghold on false pretences, intending to hand you all over to save the lives of my daughters. It's not a bad idea, going in through the front entrance."

"Even if that gets us inside, it's still going to be much harder to take out the Yiga leadership with their eyes already on us," Link says. "How about some of us doing that to provide a distraction, giving cover for another to sneak in?"

Granté looks thoughtful. "Dorian and I, with Link as a prisoner? I could be a convert, and either don't know or don't care that Dorian is just saving his own hide. Paya sneaks in - she was spooked by the spies attacking and we don't know where she ran off to?"

"It's not very believable that you'd be able to cart me all the way up into the highlands as a prisoner with just two people to keep watch over me," Link points out. "And that's putting a lot of pressure on Paya."

"I can do it," Paya interjects. "But I think you're right that it's not quite believable enough. How about this - you killed the spies and fled, so Granté and Dorian captured me to use as bait for you, or as a bargaining chip with the rest of the Sheikah? Then you can be the one to sneak in."

"Paya, I couldn't possibly let you take such a risk," Dorian says.

"Are the Yiga stupid, Dorian?" Paya asks him, chin jutted out stubbornly.

Dorian looks uncomfortable. "No. They are ruthless and misguided, but not stupid."

"Then they won't kill me. I'm much more valuable alive. Whereas they may very well simply kill Link on sight."

"They can _try_ ," Link snorts.

"I think it's the best plan we've got," Granté says.

"I agree," Link says. "Even though I don't like the idea of splitting up. But the Yiga seem to be after me more than anyone, so maybe that is safer."

Dorian sighs. "Very well. I cannot think of a better plan."

"We should take the cart and horses with us," Granté says, "if we're meant to be taking Paya as a prisoner. We can always ditch it when we get into the foothills."

"And I should probably head out, if I'm meant to be fleeing an attempted assassination," Link says in a wry tone. "I guess I'll go activate the local tower. Maybe see what the scuttlebutt in Kara-Kara is, if there's any news about Vah Naboris. You'll be slower with the cart, so even with the detour I may still reach the mountains first."

"We'll keep in touch," Paya says, coming in for a hug. "Be safe."

~

The tower is a beacon sprouting upward from the clifftops high above the canyon. The cliff face below has a massive scar gouged into it, which must surely be where Vah Naboris was excavated. The bleached remains of walkways cling to the rock still, and detritus from the dig remains scattered around. Link nudges a bucket with his toe, and it rolls noisily away. The weather here is so dry that even a century exposed to the air hasn't fully rotted it.

Link leaves Epona in as sheltered an area as he can manage, with a pile of apples and carrots to munch her way through, and assesses the climb. Once he has a route held in his mind's eye, he tests his weight on the first ladder, and finding it good, starts to shimmy up. Even this late into autumn the sun bakes down harshly on the Gerudo region, and he stops frequently to sip from his water skin. The ropes are rough under his palms; the planks dry and splintering under his boots. Birds wheel in the thermals thrown up by the cliffs, calling out to him raucously. Their cries are the only sound in the sun-baked landscape.

About halfway up one of the supports breaks free as he steps onto a walkway, and he grabs wildly onto the suddenly-dangling structure until the surge of adrenaline subsides, then carefully inches up onto solid footing once more. Thankfully, the rest of the climb up the cliffs is uneventful. There's a herd of electric chuchus rolling idly around below the tower, but cryonis halts them in their tracks, and they glare indignantly at Link as he passes. From there it's just a tedious crawl up the lattice of the tower itself, and a pleasant paraglide back down to Epona.

~

In the canyon, the walls close in around him, echoing back every hoof beat and protecting him from all but a few hours of the sun. They cast the road into deep shadow the rest of the time. He camps out, the first night, then stops at the caravanserai at the desert gateway the next, to sleep and refill his water. Almost everyone who passes through this way stops here, with water sources becoming scarce this close to the desert, and the stables tucked under the rocky shelf are packed with horses. Most are the sleek golden mounts preferred by the Gerudo patrols where the terrain is firm enough for horses, but there's a smattering of traders' mules too. And, just visible in the rocks above, the glow of a shrine which he makes a note to visit on the way out.

The cool, dark interior of the caravanserai is a welcome relief from the late afternoon heat. Covered walkways line a central courtyard with a shaded well, and Link ducks into the main gathering space to hand over some rupees for dinner and a bed. That gets him a bowl of shredded lamb and roasted chickpeas, topped with sour, tangy yoghurt and crisp slices of cucumber. There's a place open next to a young man in blue, who's giving Link the same itchy-familiar feeling that people sometimes do. He's yet to work out how to tell whether that just means they remind him of people he knew before, or are related to them - or if they're people he met in previous lives. This guy has a mop of brown hair, a large nose, and a backpack propped behind his bench with a frame like the horns of a stag beetle.

"Hey hey!" he says as Link sits down, full of cheer. "Always nice to meet a fellow traveller. Is this your first time in the desert?"

"No, I've been before," Link says, lifting a forkful of food to his mouth. The flavours burst over his tongue, rich and earthy with spices. "Not - recently, though."

"I come this way a lot," the man continues. "There's a lot of demand for winter-wings and cold darners here, and you get great deals on summer-wings and warm darners, plus it's a great place to find electric rhino beetles. I usually swing up to the highlands once I'm done with Kara-Kara; there's rumours that horned colossus beetles breed up there, did you know? I've never seen one, but one day I will, I just know it!"

Link's beginning to wonder whether the guy actually needs to breathe when he stops and inhales deeply.

"I'm Beedle, by the way! Hyrule's foremost trader of insects, arachnids, and other invertebrates, at your service. I especially love beetles though, as you might be able to tell."

"I had a hunch," Link replies, laughter lurking just under the surface of his words.

"Anyway, that's me - but what about you? What's your name, stranger? What brings you over this way?"

"Ravio," Link replies, sticking with their agreed cover for lack of any better ideas. "I'm a trader too."

"Oh, that's nice," Beedle says with a broad, genuine grin. "Maybe we'll see each other around!"

Link smiles and nods at Beedle as he leaves, and resolves to set off with first light to reduce the odds of running into him again on the road. Even if Beedle is legit, the Yiga threat hovering over Link makes it too risky to travel with anyone else right now.

~

With Epona left safely in the caravanserai's more sheltered stables, it takes Link from pre-dawn until late afternoon to reach Kara Kara. The bazaar sprawls out around its lush oasis exactly as Link remembers; a breath of fresh, vibrant air amid the arid desert. It's still full of people bustling around stalls laden with jewel-bright silks, sticky dates and heaped baskets of nuts. The sellers still call their wares across the bazaar, shouting cheerfully over each other to entice potential customers. They won't pack up until late into the evening. The air is still heady with spices and the tang of clean water.

He can hear Zelda in his head as he weaves through the crowds, telling him across a century that the water here is from the same aquifer which feeds the Walled City some fifty miles away. The more he remembers, the more he feels her absence like a physical ache. He keeps catching flashes of movement in the corner of his eye, expecting to see her tentative smile when he turns. Each time he swallows down his disappointment and reminds himself to stay focused.

He stops at one stall selling dates, apparently being manned by a small Gerudo girl in the absence of any adults. He hands over some rupees and she wraps some up for him in a paper bag, smiling brightly.

He dredges up his rusty Gerudo. <Many thanks, little one.>

The girl giggles. "You talk like my grand-mama," she says in flawless Hylian.

"Oh! You speak Hylian?"

"Everyone here knows Hylian, don't you know anything? Aren't _you_ a Hylian? Why're you surprised at other people speaking Hylian then? That's silly."

Link opens his mouth to respond, but the girl is still talking. "My best friend's a Hylian, his name is Padrick and he's eight and he lives next door with his mum and dad and they're both Hylians too. _And_ his sister, but she's still just a baby so she can't play with us yet."

He looks around again, paying more attention this time. There are more Hylians here than he would have expected, mingling easily with the locals in a way that doesn't suggest tourists.

"Refugees came all the way here?" he asks. He means it rhetorically, but the girl frowns up at him.

"Few-gees?"

"Refugees. People feeling from the Calamity."

"Oh. I dunno," the girl says doubtfully. "That was a _loooong_ time ago. You could ask my auntie, she's an arcalologist so her job is knowing stuff about long long... long long long ago."

Link is feeling older by the second. "Sure, I'll do that. Thanks for the dates."

"Have a good day, mister! Come again!"

~

He browses the other stalls, picking up bits and pieces (desert-suitable clothing, loose and breathable. More sunblock salve, more cooling potions, more arrows) and idly popping dates in his mouth from time to time. He's pretty much done shopping when he finally realises that the flashes of movement that keep catching his attention aren't purely a figment of his imagination. There are two travellers tailing him, hoods pulled up over their faces as they feign interest in the goods nearby. His pulse kicks up, and he starts to work his way out of the bazaar. He doesn't want them to spring their ambush in the middle of the crowds; if these are Yiga, he'll be the only one hindered by trying to avoid collateral damage to any bystanders.

He's starting to get to the thinned-out edge of the stalls now, where his shadows' thin veneer of 'interested shoppers' won't hold any more. He hurries his steps, and by the time they reach the last stall he's running, legs pumping as he flies over the loose sandy ground. There are shouts from behind him but he doesn't stop, doesn't look around. Eventually there's a soft, dual _pop_ in the air just behind him, as the Yiga close the distance with their teleporters. He swings around, drawing his sword, feet in a wide and ready stance.

They rush him, two to one, but he's focused as he weaves between their attacks. It's as if time has solidified around him like tar; their moves are sluggish and telegraphed. He pivots down to one knee to send a vicious slash at the calves of one, and is rewarded with a hiss of pain and blood streaking his blade. The Yiga teleports away again. Link's already channelling his momentum into a whirling uppercut to the one that thinks it can sneak up on him. It leaps out of range, and Link's back on his feet, scanning for them.

Fighting Yiga is like dancing with the wind; like trying to nail down the sea. He can't get any solid hits in succession; they blip in and out, harrying him like mosquitoes. He's a whirlwind of steel as he blocks their blows, his entire existence narrowed down to this moment, this parry, this thrust. The one he clipped - he thinks it's probably a man behind the mask - is limping, and he focuses his efforts on cutting down their numbers advantage. He swipes a hand down the slate to call forth a bomb, then rushes to make the Yiga jump backwards. He throws the bomb, detonating it as the Yiga pops back into existence and sending him flying. 

One down; one to go. The other, a woman, is warier now, darting in and out the moment his sword gets anywhere near her. He forces himself back into that trance-like focus, seeing the patterns of movement to predict - there! - he stabs down as she rushes in, skewering her through the thigh. She blinks out, reappearing behind him. He whirls, but she's gone again, hobbling over the sand and jumping as often as the belt will let her. Link sheaths his sword and pulls out his bow. He lines up a shot, and when the Yiga appears at the top of a dune, he sends an electric arrow straight through her neck. She drops, a web of sparks dancing across her shoulders. 

He wanders over to the man, rolling him over with a nudge of his boot. The Yiga's legs are mangled beyond recognition, and when Link pulls the mask off a trickle of blood is smeared down from the corner of his mouth. He's just a boy, really - younger even than Link himself, clearly only just grown into the length of his legs and the width of his shoulders. Link grimaces. He's not sure what's worse - that the Yiga leadership would send someone so young on a mission like this, or that the kid might have been fanatical enough to volunteer. They probably weren't really expecting to kill him, if two grunts in broad daylight is all they sent. Were these lookouts who got cocky, and thought they'd try get the glory from taking out the Hylian Champion? He resolves to check in with the others sooner rather than later.

~

Link approaches the guards on the exit as he arrives back at Kara-Kara. They look at him from under their helmets with the expression of guards everywhere, i.e. bored, dismissive, and not getting paid enough to stand here in this oppressive heat for hours on end without seeing a single scrap of action.

Given his previous conversation they probably speak Hylian, but he wants to be sure they'll take him seriously. Here's hoping his Gerudo is still up to the task. 

<Good afternoon,> he calls out with a wave.

The left-hand of the pair at least looks mildly interested now. <Good afternoon, little voe. Not many Hylians speak Gerudo. Where did you learn?>

Link hesitates; neither 'in the army' nor 'from Urbosa', both of which are true to a certain degree, are usable answers. <A friend,> he says after a moment. <May Din watch over her.>

<Din watch her,> the two echo back to him with inclined heads.

<Did you want something?> one asks once they've finished their moment of respect for the dead.

<I have an incident to report. I was attacked by Yiga, half a click to the West. The two assailants are dead but there may be more in the area.> At least his more military-focused vocabulary is coming in handy.

<Yiga, here?> the guards look to one another, concerned expressions on their faces. 

One says <Thank you for letting us know, we'll make sure our superiors hear of it.>

The other adds, <And we'll ensure someone is sent to deal with the bodies.>

<Good,> Link says. <What news of the area?>

<Not much,> the one on the left drawls, leaning on her spear. <Nothing ever happens here.>

<Apart from Yiga attacks, it seems> the other one snorts at her.

<Apart from that,> the first allows with an eye roll. <But we didn't even get to fight them, so where's the fun in that?>

<There is _some_ news,> the other says, ignoring her. <The Walled City is closed for visitors. Though of course you couldn't enter regardless.>

That is news to Link - the first part, that is, not the second. <Why is the City closed?> he asks.

She shrugs. <No idea. Nobody tells us anything. Is there anything else you need?>

Link shakes his head. <No. Many thanks.>

<Have a good day!> they call after him as he makes his way back into the market.

~

He ponders his next move as he eats grilled vegetable skewers fresh from the market stalls. Gerudo City being closed to visitors seems... ominous, in the context of increased Yiga activity and Ganon's rousing of two of the Divine Beasts. The city is two days' journey away on foot - or one extremely long day on a sand seal, if you push it. He could go scout about, see what's happening. He can head to the mountains from the city just as easily as from Kara-Kara, after all.

Resolved, he fires off a message to Dorian and the others updating them on his plans, then heads for the sand seal stables. The Gerudo run trips to the city setting off twice a day, for tourists and traders, but those are suspended with the city closed. They also have sand seals for hire if you know how to handle one, though. Link honestly can't remember whether he's ever sand-surfed behind a seal before. He's hoping that he _has_ , and also that it's like riding a horse and mostly muscle memory - when he hands over the rupees to hire one.

The attendant - who appears to be about the same age as Link but without the long nap - hooks him up with a surly-looking beast and a battered-looking sled, and hands over the reins. "You know how?" she asks in heavily-accented Hylian, peering at him sceptically.

"Yes," Link lies.

"Hold on then," she replies. "Mush, girl!"

The sand seal lurches forwards with an angry bark, great flippers digging at the sand. Link is pulled along behind with a jolt of his shoulders. He wobbles precariously before righting himself, letting his knees stay springy on the sled as they leave Kara-Kara behind in the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Golden horses](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akhal-Teke), specifically adapted to hot conditions.
> 
> [Caravanserais](https://www.tehrantimes.com/news/414342/Caravanserais-ancient-roadside-inns) were widespread in arid regions, and seem like a good fit for the Gerudo region. I understand why the same basic tiny stable model is used everywhere in-game, but some diversity in the designs of the inns would really have helped breathe life into Hyrule!


End file.
